


Sherlock's Mercy

by YoungDreamerOfBigThings



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson (TV 1980)
Genre: Aggression, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Best Friends, Competition, Crime Fighting, Emotional Manipulation, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Female Friendship, Funny, Gen, Humor, Lies, Love, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, Organized Crime, Paternal Sherlock, Revenge, Secrets, Sociopathic Sherlock, Sweet, Sweet Sherlock, Team as Family, Teasing, daughter and father team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungDreamerOfBigThings/pseuds/YoungDreamerOfBigThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place three years after 'the fall', and after Sherlock ‘returns from the dead’ after faking his suicide. He and Dr. Watson are working together like before, solving cases. One day as Sherlock is investigating the homicide of two drug dealers and he discovers they are linked with the Black Lotus and Jim Moriarty's organization. With these leads as well as the daughter of one of the victims providing inside information, he tries to penetrate the major drug rings of London and end them. But before he even begins to get any answers he is left with only questions when he discovers that the drug dealer’s daughter is actually his own! Holmes eventually has to accept fatherhood, and all the trials of living with a eighteen year old daughter that is a duplicate of himself in many ways, all-the-while solving cases and training her.</p><p>Disclaimer: I am not associated with Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss or (Obviously) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and i do not claim ownership of any of their stories or characters. I claim sole ownership of this story along with my own characters. It is solely a fan fiction, written for people's entertainment and pleasure and not for profit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Es_Aitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Es_Aitch/gifts).



**  
**

 

** Sherlock’s Mercy **

Chapter 1: 

 “A man and a woman found dead in the woman’s home,” Sherlock read as he sipped his tea solemnly in the dimly lit living room of his shared flat at 221B Baker St.

 “the deceased are linked to large drug circle, left many documents of detailed inside information that may be the key to attacking the pressure points in the drug dealing lords of London’s system,” he continued to read as he scanned over the text he had just received from Inspector Lestrade.

Sherlock rolled his eyes to an invisible, imaginary Lestrade and texted back,

 “Boring.”

He waited for a moment, knowing Lestrade was probably desperate for Sherlock’s skills, as always, and would try to convince him to contribute his input. Begging and whining it was more like in Sherlock’s eyes more than simply asking for help. Sherlock knew Lestrade long enough to deduce that at this point in the conversation; Lestrade may either give up or say something interesting about the case that would intrigue Sherlock enough to help, out of pure curiosity. His cell phone vibrated in his hand, he looked down and read on it a text from his irritatingly informative older brother Mycroft;

“This particular drug cycle is linked to the black lotus, Irene Adler and James Moriarty’s people.”

Lestrade must be desperate if he was texting his older brother to help convince him. Sherlock frowned, even after three years after James Moriarty killed himself to force Sherlock to fake his own death and even after Sherlock’s  ‘resurrection’ so to speak, Moriarty’s evil was still very much alive in the world. More frustrating still was Irene Adler’s involvement. Even after he saved her life and helped her fake her own death, The Woman who beat him, suddenly decided to come back to life as well and mess with Sherlock once more. Sherlock sighed, _“villains will be villains”_ he thought to himself. He texted back Lestrade saying he’ll do it to which Lestrade replied,

“Then you two meet me at 436 Brooke St. 9:00”

Sherlock smiled and returned his cell phone to the front pocket of the blazer he was wearing. Just then, John Watson groggily stomped into the room holding his morning tea. Sherlock didn’t have to waste any time with observation, all he needed to see was his tired eyes to deduce he had a rather bad night’s sleep.

The cause, Sherlock knew, was most likely due to another nightmare about his days in combat, watching his friends die around him, then to muddle into memories of  watching Sherlock’s ‘suicide’. These nightmares have been getting more frequent and worse over the last two months. A slight shudder ran up Sherlock’s spine, causing him to sit suddenly erect. Somehow seeing John so haunted even after three years, haunted Sherlock as well, and he couldn’t stand it.

John slumped into the arm chair opposite Sherlock in front of the unlit fireplace. He sighed and mumbled, “Rough night,” before sipping his tea. Sherlock glanced at him and nodded understandingly. Sherlock waited for John to finish his tea, knowing the caffeine was well needed for today’s new case and Sherlock needed his doctor alert. Finally after what felt like an eternity to Sherlock, John sighed happily and placed his empty tea cup on the coffee table, finished.

Seeing that John was done with his tea; Sherlock shot up from his seat, grabbed his coat and scarf and began to put them on. He glanced at John while doing so and John’s happy face turned into a frown. He sighed unhappily as Sherlock waved his cell phone towards him while struggling to put his handgun into his trench coat pocket. John took the non-verbal hint and with a grunt he got up from his chair and grabbed his coat, cell phone and handgun. 

Then without saying a word they both walked downstairs, out the door and onto the busy Baker Street. John read over Sherlock’s cellphone texts after he was handed it as Sherlock waved down a Cabbie. John now being informed and with a cab waved down, they both got in and were on their way to Brooke St.

While on their way there, Sherlock began to feel uncomfortable. He felt an annoying nagging in his head that he could not figure out. What he was struggling with was trying to remember why that certain address on Brooke St. seemed somewhat familiar to him, like a distant memory, a ghost of his past. John noticed Sherlock’s apparent frustration,

“What?” he asked, turning to look at him, “What is it?”

“Not sure at the moment. There’s something about this case that’s bothering me, something familiar that I can’t put my finger on.” Sherlock replied, his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples with his fingers. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily, then shook his head dismissing the thoughts.

The taxi pulled up to the side of the road in front of a middleclass small home that had police tape framing the property.  Inspector Lestrade saw the taxi pull up and he skipped down the house’s front steps towards the road to meet them. As Watson paid the driver, Sherlock peered out of the cab window at the house and recognised the place,

“Oh.” He whispered to himself as he opened the door and stepped out of the cab. Lestrade strode up to him,

“Here you are again, here to solve another case for me” he joked. Lestrade continued to talk, mostly addressing Watson in casual conversation, but Sherlock wasn’t listening. He continued to gaze up at the two story house confused.  There was something haunting about it, something dark that was dancing in the back of his memories just out of reach. Suddenly Sherlock became aware that John and Lestrade were staring at him.

 “Should we have a look then Sherlock?” Lestrade asked, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock shook his head, clearing the fog of his mind and nodded,

“Yes, I believe **I** should.” He gestured for the detective inspector to lead the way. The inspector gave an annoyed look at Sherlock then lead them up the steps and into the house. As soon as they stepped inside, the strong smell of marijuana entered their nostrils, along with other strong smells of multiple other drugs. Lestrade led them into the living room and there on the floor were two bodies, a male and a female.

The man, who was probably around Mycroft’s age, lay on his back; his limbs sprawled across the floor. He was holding a gun still in his right hand and there was a single bullet wound in the centre of his forehead. Sherlock instantly deducted a homicide/suicide case. The woman to the man’s right lay face down on the ground. Blood pooled around her chest area, clearly from a bullet wound that pierced her heart from behind.

Sherlock knelt down and pulled out a pair of clean latex gloves that he had brought from his trench coat pocket. He began to search the man’s coat.

“What did you find out so far?” Sherlock asked Lestrade, not looking up as he looked at the man’s fingers to check for powder marks, which there were. 

“Nothing much,” Lestrade sighed, “Except recorded information of drug dealings, selling and buying, as well as receipts and bills. We know that she; the house owner had kept up on her mortgages, taxes and bills.”

“Funny to think of drug dealers keeping up on bills and taxes and those sort of legal stuff,” John joked.

Sherlock looked up at him and glared at him coldly, “There is nothing funny about drug dealing,” he snapped then continued looking over the body. John was taken aback for a second, by Sherlock’s sudden coldness. Usually he would be jumping with glee when he got a new case like this, and it would usually be by this time that he would have made at least two remarks on someone’s lack of intelligence.

But as he watched he saw how completely focused and immersed Sherlock was on looking over the body. He was focused a little more than usual and his eyebrows furrowed in what John took as worry or confusion. He had hardly spoken a word to anyone, which was very unlike him. John had a feeling that somehow Sherlock felt personally connected to this case, probably because of his past as an addict.

Sherlock sighed annoyed, finding nothing useful on the man’s body. He squinted his eyes and turned to the woman’s body. “What’s her name?” he asked. Lestrade pulled a notepad from his coat pocket and read:

“Silvia Mooresworth, unmarried, a dropout from Cambridge University chemistry, forty-two years of age and had a eighteen year old daughter who is currently missing. We are searching for her now. We have yet to figure out who this man is.”  

Sherlock nodded, absorbing the information. _Silvia…Why did that name and this place seem so familiar?_ Sherlock returned his attention to her body. He reached over her body and looked at Lestrade to see if he was allowed to proceed. He nodded grimly, waving his hand in permission. John understood and walked over to assist Sherlock in gently turning the body over onto her back. Upon seeing her face Sherlock dropped his head down in grim acceptance, he rubbed his fingers through his thick dark curls. He sighed sadly as he stared at her familiar face.

It all made sense now, why he recognized her place, her name, and now her face. Sherlock had been here a few times before, many years ago, when he was struggling with his addictions. Now that he had the most important pieces of the puzzle, he was now able to access some of his fragmented memories of those years so long ago. He had preferred going to her than some other drug dealers in the area, because she had been the most kind and understanding. She had acted more like a doctor or pharmacist towards her customers, and would not hesitate to warn them if they are taking a bit too much.

She had warned Sherlock on numerous occasions when his addictions were beginning to spiral out of control. He wasn’t sure exactly if she treated everyone else the way she treated him, he had often observed her habit of attempting to flirt or seduce Sherlock, which had never worked. At least he was fairly certain he had no reaction. After all he was terribly high during those days, he had no memory of about half of those years.

Upon seeing her face John shook his head in pity. She had multiple bruises along her jaw and neckline. Looking at the bruises closer, he could see by their colour and puffiness that they were not recent, they probably occurred earlier that week judging by the rate of their healing. Suspecting domestic abuse, he gently rolled one of her arm sleeves up to her elbow and his suspicions were confirmed. She had small bruises on her arm and a large dark bruise around her wrists where someone had grabbed her tightly as she fought against the grip, these too were not fresh. John then got up and examined the dead man’s hands and upon seeing his bruised knuckles he knew who had done the abuse to the poor woman.

Although John had no sympathy for drug dealers, he did however deeply care about stopping abuse of this sort. John had a good friend in his childhood whose father abused his mother and him. One day his friend couldn’t keep it a secret any longer and told John about everything his father had done. Ever since, John’s blood boiled whenever he heard of men in relationships abusing a woman and her children. 

John was just about to tell Sherlock about the abusive relationship, he opened his mouth and turned to him when Sherlock suddenly interrupted him, “I agree John, abusive relationship.”

John shook his head, staring at his friend in bewilderment. You would think by now, with the years of knowing Sherlock, John would have gotten used to it, but his deductive skills and ‘mind reading’ never ceased to amaze him.

“OK Sherlock, you know the rules, you need to tell me what you’ve got.” Lestrade nagged from the corner, disrupting the pair from their observations. He stood staring at the two crossing his arms waiting. Sherlock got up with a grunt and turned to the inspector.

“Two dead, a man and a woman. She, Miss Mooresworth was in an abusive relationship with this man here,” he pointed to the man on the floor. Sherlock stepped over to Lestrade and stood beside him, and they continued to look over the bodies. Sherlock was in his ‘explaining zone’ and he began to speak faster than the speed of human thought.

In a rush of words he explained,

“Knowing the dead woman I would say when they started their romantic relationship of drug dealing and starting a family together that he didn’t start out this way. She would have never started the relationship in the first place if he had been. I’d say that over the last four years, give or take, their relationship took a turn for the worse, maybe he started using himself, maybe he owed some dangerous people some money but whatever the problem was, it resulted in him becoming abusive,” he paused for breath then continued,

“But… getting back to the murder, I would say something happened over the last week. Perhaps she told someone about the abuse, perhaps she was cheating on him or maybe she was stealing their shared drug supply. Long story short, she was hiding something from him and when he found out he was furious. He then stormed into the home while she wasn’t expecting him. He took his gun and shot her while she had her back turned to him. Then in fear of being caught he, knowing the police would find the drugs and the paperwork linked to him, he decided his best option was to shoot himself.”

John looked at his friend confused, “Wait, what do you mean ‘knowing her’…are you saying you knew her?” Guilty, Sherlock nodded his head and looked to the floor.

“Yes. I met her a few times a very long time ago, when I was struggling with…well, you know…” Sherlock trailed off embarrassed and ashamed but then he added,

“But I don’t do that sort of thing anymore, those days are far behind me.” Lestrade snorted suddenly. He looked at Sherlock snickering with a doubtful look on his face. “Shut up!” Sherlock snapped at the inspector. John just rolled his eyes.

“Did they refuse to give you more drugs and then you shot them?” said a woman’s voice that suddenly made Sherlock and John’s skin crawl with annoyance.

Everyone turned to see Sargent Sally Donovan leaning in the doorway arms crossed, with the usual displeased look on her face. She walked into the room and smugly looked at Sherlock. 

“Ah, Sargent Donovan. Seeing you brings such joy to my heart.” Sherlock spat at her sarcastically.

Donovan raised an eyebrow, and shifted her weight, “You, have a heart?” she asked coldly.

“Yes, just not towards you.”

“Than what does your heart lean toward?”

            “Pumping blood through my veins,” Sherlock stated, annoyed at Donovan’s presence. John chuckled grinning at Sherlock. Sherlock gave a small grin back, his eyes dancing with laughter. She rolled her eyes and walked across the room into the hallway.

            “Is there anything else you want to show me inspector, lists, files, information?” Sherlock asked impatiently. The DI nodded and motioned his hand to follow him as he led them down the hall then downstairs. Once they had gotten to the basement (Cellar), Sherlock’s mood brightened greatly. He looked like a boy in a toy store as he waltzed around the drug making laboratory. He started laughing with glee as he played with the laboratory equipment.

“Oh excellent! Ah!... Just beautiful!” he shouted with joy.

John rolled his eyes and whispered to Sherlock in warning,

“Do you really want to look so comfortable in a drug lab in front of the police?” 

            Lestrade gave him a warning look. Sherlock stopped for a moment, recalibrating his mind to the job at hand. He began to really look around this time. The small basement was dimly lit, except for the one florescent light that lit the large table in a greenish tint. On the table were Bunsen burners, beakers, vials, bottles, and a camping hot plate with a pot on top among other laboratory equipment. It was well organized, considering the purpose of making drugs. There were filing cabinets full of paperwork on one side of the room, across the room on the other side were buckets and bags and boxes of drug making ingredients. Battery acid, pesticides, gasoline, rat poisoning etc. They had it all. Sargent Donovan strode over to the walk in closet and let out a low whistle when she opened the door.  

Inside the closet it was full to capacity with large duct tape wrapped bundles of cocaine and marijuana. There were also dozens of cardboard boxes that, when opened, revealed packets of narcotics, crystal meth, speedballs and heroin. When Lestrade saw the sheer amount of drugs they had just discovered his face lit up like a Christmas tree, he gave a hearty whoop! He and Sargent Donovan began patting each other on their backs, laughing. Lestrade grinned as he called in more police cars to pick up and safely transport the stash of drugs to a secure location to be catalogued then destroyed. Victory for the police.

Upon seeing the drugs, Sherlock became very uneasy, in fact he felt sick. Lestrade watched as Sherlock became suddenly withdrawn as he stared at the ceiling with a blank expression. Seeing Sherlock’s reaction, John understood as well as the Inspector. He was trying to calm himself while trying to distract his mind from temptation.

“Sherlock?” John asked, he stepped forward and gently touched his arm to try and bring him back into reality. Upon contact, Sherlock suddenly flinched with a slight gasp. John had thought with his drug abuse far behind in his past, that Sherlock could take it, but the bulk  of the drugs that lay right before him proved to be too hard for him to take.

“Sherlock, If you have nothing else to tell me, you can leave now,” Lestrade offered cautiously, “We will transport all the documents in these file folders to your flat.”

John and the inspector waited patiently for his response. Sherlock noticed Sally staring at him with a suspicious look and he took a deep breath and nodded, “Alright. Thank you, we’ll be on our way then.”   

As he and John began to make their way up the stairs, Sherlock stopped and turned to the inspector.  “Oh, and Lestrade,” he begun while smiling mischievously, “Keep a good eye on Sargent Donovan, I know she likes drugs as much as I used to.” And with that, Sherlock and John proceeded up the stairs.

Donovan stood frozen in disbelief. The inspector turned to her with a questioning look. Sally was beside herself,

“I was in college! I only tried it on three different occasions, that’s all! I’m not an addict!” she protested. The Detective inspector didn’t look like he was buying it. Sally didn’t know what to do she screamed after Sherlock, “I’m Not an Addict!”  


	2. Sherlock's Shocking Discovery

 

Chapter 2:    

            The next morning, the police arrived with two large crates which contained all the records and documents found in the Mooresworth home. The men informed Sherlock that once Lestrade was done for the morning at the station, he would take a cab and personally deliver the police files on the victims to their flat. John came down from his room and sat at the kitchen table, which was cluttered as usual, with Sherlock who was already focused on reading through the files.

 

A question had been burning in his mind all night, something he wanted to ask Sherlock about yesterday, but felt it wasn’t the best time to talk to him about. He grunted to get Sherlock’s attention but his face remained behind the document he was reading, completely submerged in the words, oblivious of John’s presence. John made an annoyed face, he leaned forward and spoke,

“So……” he began.

Sherlock suddenly lowered the paper in a dramatic rustling and stared intensely at John with his usual unblinking fixed stare. He sat waiting for John to continue, he raised an eyebrow when John did not immediately respond. John cleared his throat awkwardly, and continued,

“So, you knew her then? The murder victim from yesterday?” he was about to continue when Sherlock interrupted him groaning.

“John, I’d rather not talk about this. I know you are subconsciously trying to learn more about my past which I have unintentionally hinted around you before on various occasions. But…” he sighed, “I just don’t want to talk about it. All you need to know about those days is that it was… it wasn’t the best life back then.” He raised the document once again, covering his face.

John nodded and didn’t press the subject further. He knew he was not going to get anything else out of him.

“Alright, then say we change the topic. I’ve got another question for you.”

Sherlock sighed annoyed and continued reading. John ignored his reaction,

“Ok. How did you know about Sargent Donovan’s drug use in college?” 

Sherlock’s face suddenly brightened with a mischievous smile. He set down the sheet of paper again and clasped his hands on the table.

“I didn’t, but **now** I know.” He grinned, his blue eyes lit up with amusement. 

Confused John’s eyebrows furrowed, “You, didn’t know?” he asked, shocked that Sherlock had simply guessed.

“Well,” Sherlock joked, “I had my suspicions of Donovan; she’s the kind of woman I could easily see getting caught up into something like that while she was young. Honestly, I was simply irritated by her comments so I commented back. I knew how much Lestrade trusts my word as the gospel truth and I knew he could easily be fooled into believing I had deducted her past. I was just poking fun at her and I turned out to be right!”

He looked at John, grinning stupidly, and then they both began to laugh for a good fifteen seconds when they were interrupted by Mrs. Hudson who had popped her head into the doorway. John chuckled and waved her inside with a warm smile,

“Come on in Mrs. Hudson, we’re just working.”

Mrs. Hudson smiled sweetly as she entered the flat. She turned towards them; she clasped her hands in front of the folds of her purple skirt. She tilted her head as she spoke, “Sherlock, there is a young lady at the door who insists she must speak with you.”

John looked at Sherlock with a questioning look. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders having no idea who it might be. Irritated by the girl’s interruption of their work he chose to ignore her request,

 “Tell her to go away Mrs. Hudson. I’m working.”

Mrs. Hudson shrugged unsure; a slight worried look crossed her face.

“Ok dear,” Mrs. Hudson said as she turned to leave, “But she seems quite nervous and scared, the poor girl’s got an awful bruise on her head. She says she’s here to help you.”

“Help me?” Sherlock echoed confused, his eyes squinted at Mrs. Hudson. “Please tell me she’s not one of those door to door religious types.”

“I don’t think so dear.” Mrs. Hudson said shaking her head.

John leaned towards Sherlock, “Maybe you should go and see who it is,” he suggested shrugging.

 There was a short silence as John and Mrs. Hudson waited for him to decide what to do. Having made up his mind, Sherlock looked at the two of them then rose from his chair, straightened and buttoned his blazer around his slim frame and then made his way down the stairs to the front door.

Curious, Sherlock opened the door and behind it he found a teenaged girl, probably eighteen he estimated. She was much shorter than him, and from his observations, she was probably shorter than Watson too.  5’1’’ he decided. From what he could tell by her coat, she was not petite but she was not overweight, she looked quite healthy.  She wore a black trench coat with a red knitted scarf and black leather gloves. On her head she wore a black Red Ricci fedora with a red stripe and under that her long, light brown hair flowed out fairly straight but with a slight wave.

She had somewhat high cheekbones and she wore makeup on her lips and eyes, but nothing dramatic, it was very natural looking. She had small eyes with thick lashes, plump lips and a slightly larger nose but she was quite pretty despite this. He noticed the dark brown purple bruise that peeked out from under her fedora. The bruise stood out like a sore thumb against her pale, fair complexion. Other than her appearance, he could read nothing about her, which was confusing and frustrating for Sherlock. She was giving no hints to her purpose of meeting him. He was somewhat mystified by this fact, it was like the time he had first met Irene Adler and she was a blank slate to him. He had no idea who she was. She looked up at him with hazel green eyes and asked,

 “Sherlock Holmes?”

She spoke in a deeper voice for a young woman, it had a slight rasp to it, and it rolled with her words, somewhat similar to the way that he spoke. But her voice was unlike the irritating teenage popular girls’ raspy voices they put on nowadays.

“Yes?...”

            “My name is Mercy. I am Silvia Mooresworth’s daughter. I have much to tell you, it’s very important.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened with surprise, he stared down at her noticing suddenly her resemblance to Silvia. After a pause he spoke to her, “The police are looking for you.”

 

She nodded grimly; she shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her neck as she spoke.

“Oh yes, I know. But I am pretty good at avoiding them. I don’t want to be under their custody, they are all idiots and I know that they would only focus on trying to charge me with involvement with a drug dealer, even if I told them I was not involved, she was only my mother, not my business partner. I would rather be interviewed or interrogated, whatever you call it, by you.” She stood blank faced, blinking her thick long lashes, looking high up above her to his face waiting for his response.

Sherlock was confused by her calm coolness, considering she had just lost her mother and that the police were currently looking for her even at this moment. He was also confused about something else, he looked down at her, tilting his head and asked, “How do you know who I am, and where you would find me?”

Mercy’s stone face suddenly broke as she gave a sly little smile, “Oh I know a lot about you and your…’hobby’ of solving crimes. You would be surprised how much I know about you, I know things about you that you didn’t even know about yourself.” She laughed when she saw his awkward and slightly disturbed face. She crossed her arms in front of her, her face becoming solemn once again,

“Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker or a fan girl or anything else of that sort, I’m….” she paused as if she was reconsidering saying something. She swayed back and forth awkwardly deep in thought and then after taking a deep breath she continued, “Let’s just say, I’ve read your website and I follow the Dr.’s blog and,… that we have more in common with each other than having known my mother,” she dropped her gaze awkwardly. She blushed, embarrassed.

Sherlock was feeling uncomfortable, he had no idea what she was hinting at, but he agreed that she was right. The police are idiots. He looked at the sky above for a moment then continued to question her, “You told Mrs. Hudson that you were here to help me, yes?”

Mercy nodded sternly, “Yes, I have information. I knew the man who murdered my mother and tried to kill me,” she gestured at her bruise and then proceeded in rolling the collar down of her trench coat. She removed her scarf and pulled her shirt away to reveal bruises around her neck. The lines of bruises were obviously caused by a person’s hands; most likely male judging by size and apparent strength in an attempt to strangle her. Sherlock’s eyes widened with surprise that this small girl had managed to escape his clutches. She sighed and put her scarf back on and re-buttoned the top portion of her coat.

 “I can also give you inside information on the Black Lotus and drug dealers we were associated with, information you will not find on those documents that you have in your possession. My mother was not stupid, she knew if she was raided and if she was still alive and the police learned about the Black lotus through her documents, the Black Lotus would find her and kill her and myself.”

Sherlock was now beginning to understand why she came straight to him; she wanted to kill the drug industry that killed her mother as soon as possible. He now realized just how valuable she was and how much she had to be protected.  If any of the Black Lotus were to see her, they would kill his only key to opening the London drug world’s door wide open. He looked around Baker Street and gazed at the yellow spray painted eye that stood watching their flat from across the street. He reached for her shoulder and led her inside the door, and locked the door behind them. He reached out his hand towards her and asked for her coat, she shook her head and shooed his hand away. He took this motion as her letting him know she doesn’t exactly trust him just yet. But in reality Mercy just wanted to cover her neck from Mrs. Hudson because she had seen the worried look on her face when she saw the bruise on her forehead.

“Welcome to our base of operations Miss Mooresworth,” Sherlock said as he hiked up the stairs to the flat’s kitchen and living room where John was still working. Sherlock stepped first into the room; John looked up at him from his papers and notes, eyebrows raised.

“So…What was that about…?” John began but trailed off when he saw the young girl walk into the room. Sherlock cleared his throat and straightened himself as he addressed John,

“This is Mercy Mooresworth, the no longer missing daughter of Silvia Mooresworth, she is here to provide us with information if we in return offer her a place to stay and be protected from the Black Lotus and other drug lords.”

“Sherlock? Who is going to be staying here and for how long?” Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs as she began to climb the stairs. Sherlock rolled his eyes, irritated. When she entered the room he explained,

“Mercy Mooresworth, the girl who came to our door, Mrs. Hudson. She will stay here for however long she continues to keep up her side of the bargain and is of use to us. She could stay in your spare apartment, you know, the one where we found Carl Power‘s shoes.”

“But who will pay the rent Sherlock? I’m sure she’s a nice girl, but I have bills to pay. I don’t suppose that she will be paying the rent and you struggle to pay the rent yourself.” Mrs. Hudson complained.

Mercy cleared her throat suddenly breaking the tension and walked up to Sherlock and leaned in towards him whispering, “Mr. Holmes there is something I need to tell you now before you continue, but I would prefer to tell you in private, I’d rather not say it in front of your roommate and landlady.” She looked desperately at his face, her green/hazel eyes darting as she tried to read his response. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and straightened up.

“If that would make you more comfortable,” he began cautiously when Mercy interrupted him, “Actually, it’s more about not making you uncomfortable in front of them, what I have to say may be very personal to you…and to me.”

Sherlock shook his head in defiance, “Nonsense, there is not many things that you could say that would make me uncomfortable. I do not care; you can say anything in front of my friends. Go ahead Miss Mooresworth.” He stood waiting and looking at her, his hands placed snugly in his blazer pockets. John sipped his coffee mug as he and Mrs. Hudson looked at her as well.

Mercy stood awkwardly in front of them, her face suddenly blushing with embarrassment. She looked down at her feet for a moment, sighing and calming herself before she looked up again at Sherlock seriously.

“That’s just it Mr. Holmes…” she began as she shoved her hands into her coat pocket, “I’m not only a Mooresworth, that’s only my second last name, the name of my mother. My first last name, the name of my father is **Holmes**. I am Mercy Danielle **Holmes** -Mooresworth.” She looked at Sherlock with piercing, honest eyes as she spoke, “I am your daughter, Sherlock.”


	3. The Confession

Chapter 3: 

 The coffee John had just sipped suddenly went down wrong and he choked for a moment. The drink suddenly spewed out of his mouth and jetted across the table he coughed sputtering.

 “WHAT?” John coughed, looking at Sherlock for an explanation. Mrs. Hudson’s mouth hung open, speechless; she had the stupidest expression as she stared at poor Mercy and Sherlock. Sherlock’s face was completely blank but his wild eyes told all. He stared at her, pupils dilated, like a frightened animal, his mouth hang open a crack. His eyes darted as he looked her up and down multiple times; his mouth kept opening as if he was about to say something, but then he shut it after forgetting what he was going to say. The tension in the room was electric, and it was so silent you could hear a needle drop.

Sherlock was finally about to say something when a sudden, loud knocking came from the front door, breaking the silence. Everyone stood staring at each other, unsure what to do. There came another knock, and finally Mrs. Hudson decided to go downstairs and answer the door.  Sherlock, Mercy and John remained upstairs and listened intently to hear who it was. While they listened, John stared at the two of them, his eyes looking back and forth between the girl and his best friend. From what he could tell, he saw very little physical resemblance between the two, but there was something about her, the way she spoke, the way she stood…

“Hello Mrs. Hudson, I’m here to deliver these to Sherlock.” they heard Detective Inspector Lestrade’s voice say from downstairs. John and Sherlock looked at each other in a panic.

“Oh, hello Greg, come on in.” Mrs. Hudson said cheerfully as she invited him in. Sherlock’s eyebrows shot up as he mouthed a frustrated ‘NO!’. He waved his hands in the air in frustration.

“What is he doing here?! Now? I thought he said he would stop by in the afternoon!” John whispered frantically.

Mercy looked at the both of them, the two frightened men who obviously knew the visitor well and didn’t want her to be discovered. She understood they did not want him to know she was Sherlock’s daughter, at least not yet. She quickly walked up to Sherlock and whispered,

“Where is your toilet?”

She gave him a look of understanding and watched as a brief wave of relief washed over his face. He nodded and grabbed her by her coat then quickly ushered her down the hall and stuffed her into the small apartment washroom. Mercy shut the door behind her. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief and then joined John and Lestrade who were standing together in the living room.

“Ah.” Lestrade said, grinning when Sherlock entered the room and handed him a file of police documents. “Here you are, Sherlock. Everything we have on the victims.”

“Thank you.” Sherlock said, his voice unintentionally wavering. He coughed, trying to cover up his reaction, then snatched the papers from Lestrade’s hands.

 The Inspector stared at him, tilting his head,

“Are you getting the flu Sherlock? You’re paler than usual. In fact…” he turned and looked at John and then back to Sherlock, “You both look somewhat pale…” 

 

John looked at his friend, his face bent down, stiff. “I don’t know about myself, Inspector, but I do think Sherlock is going to be sick. He’s just experienced some… unnerving news.”

            “Shut up, I’m fine!” Sherlock snapped, glaring at John in warning.

“What type of news? Has one of your experiments backfired on you?” Lestrade chuckled, curious. He grinned teasingly.

“You could say that I suppose…” John mumbled. Sherlock angrily interrupted him,

 “John, Shut up!”

“Well,” Lestrade began as he made his way back towards the stairs, “If it has anything to do with exploding human eyeballs in the microwave, I don’t want to know.” He nodded goodbye to the two and made his way down the stairs. He said a farewell to Mrs. Hudson and then went out the door.

            John crouched down, his hands resting on his knees as he breathed a huge sigh of relief. Mrs. Hudson hastily ran up the stairs to join them again. She looked nervously at her ‘boys’. Sherlock rushed down the hall to the bathroom door and briefly paused before knocking on the wood cautiously.

“Mercy?” he called, his voice cracking. He was unable to bear with the suspense of waiting for her to come out and explain. He had thousands of questions for her whirling around in his mind. For what felt like an eternity, there was only silence from the other side of the door when suddenly he heard her respond.

            “One would think that two grown men like yourselves would, by now, remember to put the toilet seat down after you were done.” came Mercy’s muffled voice from within. Sherlock heard the door unlock and watched as she stepped out and into the hall with a displeased look on her face. Sherlock frowned, then led her back into the living room, and sat her down abruptly into a chair. He stood before her with piercing eyes, blank faced. 

“Answers. Now, Miss…” he broke off, not wanting to mutter her last names. His face twitched. He cleared his throat and continued, “I want explanation. I want proof because I can guarantee you that what you are suggesting is impossible. I was never involved with your mother. I’ve never been involved with anyone in fact.”  He stated, beginning to pace before her.

“Well, I’m here. I exist, so obviously that’s not entirely true,” Mercy stated as she gingerly removed her coat and scarf. Mrs. Hudson gasped when she saw the scars and bruises that decorated her neck and lower arms. Mercy sighed; disappointed she couldn’t hide them from the kind, older lady.

“Really? No-one?” John asked, somewhat surprised. Sherlock shot him an annoyed look and John looked away, embarrassed. John looked back to Mercy again tilting his head as he tried to remember her mother’s face.

“Well it’s obvious who your mother was, you look so much like her and you have many of the same injuries…” John said softly, looking at the abuse that she had suffered. Mercy nodded grimly, she knew she looked just like her mother in many ways.

“Yes, the majority of my looks come from my mother. I know I share very little with my father here; my mum always said that was a shame.” She gave a half smile, looked up at her father and continued,

“Ok, your answers.” She said leaning forward in her chair and clasped her hands in front of her. She grinned as she addressed Sherlock, her eyes following him as he paced in front of her. She spoke almost as quickly as the speed of thought, creepily similar to Sherlock, as she explained everything to him.

“How did I come to be? Well you’re a grown man, and a man of science. You should undoubtedly know how human reproduction occurs, so I need not explain the ‘birds and the bees’ to you, however, you obviously do not recall the conditions under which I was conceived. Obviously I was not there to witness anything so I can’t give a firsthand account, however my mother has told me enough to explain the situation. You were very young at the time, probably around nineteen and on the night you visited my mother you had a ton of drugs in your system because you were, trying to escape your depression…”

“How did you…?” Sherlock interrupted, his voice cracked, his eyebrows furrowed in shock.

“Wait, Sherlock. Do you have depression?” John asked, suddenly concerned. Mrs. Hudson gave a small gasp, covering her mouth and looking sadly at Sherlock.

“Sherlock…” She whispered, resting her hand on her chest.

 Sherlock said nothing; he glared at Mercy, who had had no idea he had never told anyone. She was now regretting saying that.

“Well, anyway,” she began, trying to change the subject back to the story.

 “My mother was around twenty five at the time and also happened to be under the influence that night. She had become drunk to try and get over her recent breakup with yet another man. She was feeling lonely, desperate and frustrated that she could not stay in a relationship. She was looking to feel loved and she had been attracted to you for quite a long time, and that night you happened to come to her door higher than Big Ben. You came at the wrong time, and under the wrong circumstances. You were originally looking for drugs but you got more than you bargained for.”

Sherlock stood staring, speechless. _I became a father at nineteen?_ He thought to himself, in absolute shock. Mercy coughed awkwardly and paused as she removed her fedora and held it in her hands. She looked up at her father with a sad expression.

“My mother never saw you again after that night. Someone told her that you had gone into rehab and, surprisingly, she was happy for you and wished you all the best of luck in getting clean. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she had decided to keep me but she felt she didn’t deserve to have a child. She knew that having a mother who was a drug dealer would be a dangerous life. ‘God have **mercy** on me’ she said. But she kept me and hoped to someday find you and introduce us. She never expected to fall in love with you and live happily ever after once we were reacquainted but she felt that if I was part of your life I could help you and that I needed a father figure. But before she got the chance, she met Mike, Mike Birch, her lover and now, her killer. It was a perfect relationship and partnership at first. He took over the dealing while she raised me. However, he was never my father, I never liked him and he didn’t like me either. In fact, he was scared of me, thought I was a monster. But he was the monster. About three years ago, he began to take some of the drugs himself and he believed he was in control. I discovered this and confronted him while he was caught in the act. He threatened that if I told mum he would beat me, I told him ‘good luck with that’. I then told my mother and he was too cowardly in the end to lay a finger on me. My mother tried to make him stop but he started hurting her, calling her stupid and saying she didn’t love him and overall manipulating her and making her like a possession. Watching first hand  a loved one be destroyed by drugs, my mother wanted out of the drug business. He became terribly abusive towards my mother and I would literally have to fight him off most nights to stop him hurting her. He was a weakling though, he didn’t know how to fight, I always won. But every time I kicked him out, he always came back and somehow convinced my pathetic mother to let him stay. But my mother was becoming terrified of what I was becoming. I was aggressive, full of rage and I would not hesitate to take a knife and threaten him if he got within three steps of her. She wanted to take me and run away to a shelter and start a new life. But he found out our plans and didn’t want her to leave. Thursday night, my mother and I were at home. I had kicked him out of the house two nights before and we didn’t expect him to come back so soon. He barged into our house and without warning, he shot my unaware mother dead. I ran into the living room and saw my mother and saw the gun. He had never owned a gun so I don’t know where he got it. He pointed it at me, smiling. He was going to shoot me, but he decided that strangling me to death would be much more enjoyable. He chased me into the kitchen and cornered me against the wall, then tried to choke me but I was wearing my coat at the time and I knew I had my baton. I hit him over the head with it. he dropped his gun in pain and I knee’d him in the crotch and it gave me enough time to run out the back door and escape. I’ve been living on the streets since that night; I knew if I stayed with friends the police could find me.”

John shook his head in amazement.

“Oh my, you poor dear!” Mrs. Hudson said, tears filling her eyes.

“You were able to take on a grown man in a fist fight and come out on top? I have to say it’s a little hard to believe, considering your age and how small you are.” John said, standing up as he spoke. Mercy raised a disapproving eyebrow at him.

“Sorry to be blunt Doctor, but you don’t have an impressive height yourself. Height makes no difference for me in a fight.” 

“But you need experience. I was in the army, I’ve been to war. I’m a trained fighter.”

Mercy chuckled and looked at him in challenge,

“I’ve been in wars, Doctor, just they were different. You were fighting for your country, I for my mother. At first I didn’t know how to fight and I would lose but over time I got stronger, I’m self-taught, self-trained. Never underestimate a young person because they are short and female. I’m stronger than you would think and what I lack in strength, I make up with the power of my mind which gives me a distinct advantage. Also, I have my weapons besides my methods of defending myself.”

“Yes, where did you get your baton? May we see it?” Sherlock asked, stretching his hand out towards her. Mercy shrugged and took the expandable black baton from her coats inner pocket and handed it to him. Sherlock looked the weapon over and with a jerk of his wrist, he expanded it to its full length.

“This is a policeman’s baton. How did you come across this?”

“Oh, I pickpocketed an annoying policeman who wanted to ask questions about my mother a few years ago.”

John looked at her with amusement now, seeing more and more similarities between the two.

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment; he looked at the young lady for a long time, silent. His hands were resting under his chin, clasped as if in prayer. He was lost deep in thought, his eyes glazed over.

“Well…” He said finally, suddenly clearing his throat and smiling at Mercy as if he was amused.

“This is definitely a very interesting story. However, just because your story consists of some facts and considerably possible circumstances that I could not recall because of my addiction… It does not make your story true. I cannot and I will not accept what you are stating as fact without proof. I refuse to believe that you, a young, short girl who looks nothing like me, are my daughter without all the facts and evidence made clear to me,” he said skeptically. His icy eyes glared coldly at her for a moment then he turned away and picked up his violin from its open case near the fireplace window. He held it in his hands but didn’t play; he just looked at it and stroked its smooth, varnished wood as if in comfort.

 

Mercy frowned and looked up at him bitterly,

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s true, **Dad** ,” she spat, protesting.

 

Sherlock put his beloved violin down and turned toward her again, his annoyance and embarrassment building inside of him.

“I will not accept it as truth unless you can provide concrete and factual evidence to me. There is only one way of truly determining whether you are or are not my offspring, a DNA test.”

 

John nodded in agreement. He had almost bought the story but he remembered that he had to be reasonable with the facts.

“Alright. I do not object to that but they will only confirm my story, I'm afraid.” Mercy nodded in understanding, but then remembered her situation, “May I stay here until you have the results? I know these things take time and in the meanwhile I can still assist you with your investigation.”

 Sherlock grimaced slightly because he honestly didn't want to be around her for much longer. He felt very uncomfortable about the whole situation but she had a point, she had to be protected and she was a key contributor to the investigation.

“Would that be alright, Mrs. Hudson?”  Sherlock asked, turning to his landlady.

 Mrs. Hudson looked thoughtful for a moment. She still felt very unsure about the whole thing.

“She can stay until you get the results of the test, but after that, whether she's your daughter or not, someone will have to pay for her rent.”  She said, sighing, then she went downstairs to her flat to make herself a cup of tea to calm her uneasiness.

John knew what to do now; it was made clear when Sherlock looked at him while mentioning a DNA test. Someone had to arrange it and John was, after all, a doctor.

“Well, DNA tests do take a while. It should give us enough time to sort it all out with the rent.”

John said, scratching the top of his head. He got up, grabbed his laptop, sat down again and began to write out an email to Molly Hooper to ask a few questions about Bart Hospital’s DNA testing.

Mercy sat silently for a minute, then looked up at Sherlock, blank faced, and spoke.

“So...”

 She began, trying to change the subject back to her mother's murder and get over the extreme awkward vibe of the room.

“Do you have any more questions about two nights ago? Or how my mother and Mike worked?”

 Sherlock nodded, relieved that they could talk about something else.

 “Yes... What role did your mother play in working for the...?”

He was cut off suddenly when a loud grumbling came from Mercy’s stomach. She held it in embarrassment.

“Sorry…” she said, blushing, “I haven't eaten in 2 days.”

 Sherlock sighed and walked into the kitchen to see if there was any food. Other than a little milk, pickles, and some moldy cheese, there was nothing in the fridge to eat. Unless Mercy wanted to eat some frozen pigs eyes that Sherlock was saving for an experiment. But then Sherlock suddenly remembered they had some cereal so he found the box and poured a bowl for her.

Mercy got up when she realized it was slightly risky to eat the cereal in the nice arm chair she was sitting on, so she started picking up the papers and files that cluttered the kitchen table and put them into a nice little pile so that she could eat there.

“Thank you,” Mercy said quietly as Sherlock placed the bowl and spoon on the table in front of her. He sat across from her and waited for her to get a few mouthfuls into her stomach before he continued asking questions. After a few bites, he cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked up from the bowl and swallowed. She nodded at him, ready for his questions.

“Who did you work for? What role did your mother play in drug dealing?” He asked her patiently, his voice strangely calming and clear; his tone like any adult asking a child a question. She ignored his tone. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and leaned back into the chair, smiling warmly at him.

“She worked as a drug dealer for a Chinese criminal organization called The Black Lotus...” She began.

 ”Yes, I know who they are.” Sherlock stated, interrupting her.

Mercy raised her eyebrows, surprised, 

“Really? I thought they were an extremely secretive and  hidden part of London's underworld. They seem very resourceful and very careful to get rid of loose ends. I guess I should be careful then, eh?”

            She said calmly before taking another bite of her cereal. She continued, her voice slightly muffled by the food in her mouth,

“She would also supply to the local druggies, like you those years ago, but her main income was from the Black Lotus. Every month they would send a smuggler to our door to pick up a large stash of drugs and transport those to a warehouse that was located about 8 miles from Baskerville, I believe. The stash you found in the basement was to be picked up any day this week by a smuggler. Once they retrieved the drugs and paid us, they would then they would distribute it in smaller portions to different smugglers to smuggle into Hong Kong via planes, boats etc.”

“How did they get through the border security?”

Mercy shrugged, “They wouldn't tell us. We didn't need to know, I guess.”

 

Sherlock grabbed a file from the pile Mercy had made and showed it to her. It was a record of the dealings.

“And this shows her dealings with the Black Lotus, yes?” He asked, pointing at it. Mercy didn't even glance at the sheet of paper; she continued to look at him with dull eyes. She shook her head and smiled smugly at him.

“Remember, I told you that you would find nothing linking her to the Black Lotus in any of those files. She recorded them somewhere else...”

“Where?” Sherlock asked, leaning in, becoming more interested.

 Mercy leaned in too, her grin growing wider.

“She wrote them on her legs with a permanent marker then she would wash it off after a month. The only real record she kept was her bank deposits after she was paid, but she made sure to deposit approximately the same amount every two weeks like anyone else with a regular income,” She said looking at him. grinning at the cleverness of it.

“You'll have to examine her body.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose in admiration of the genius. He called out to John, who was in the living room. “John, we need to go to Bart’s. I need to go to the Morgue.”

 


	4. Mercy Meets Molly Hooper

Chapter 4

 

 Molly Hooper had just finished reading the email John Watson had sent her and she sat pondering why on earth Sherlock wanted to have a DNA test. But she shrugged it off remembering, it’s Sherlock… Who knows?

He's come in other times just to x-ray a phone or study dirt samples of someone’s shoes or to beat a dead body with a riding crop. She was just about to leave the lab for her lunch when Sherlock suddenly burst through the door startling her.

“Sherlock!” She gasped, putting up a hand on her heart which was beating rapidly from both the surprise and from seeing him.

“Sorry,” He said sheepishly as John followed behind him into the room. Molly blushed flustered but looked at him confused.

“Um, I got the message about you wanting to have a DNA test, but you should know that you have to schedule it first and that could take a few weeks... You can't just barge in now and expect me to do it for you.” She said protesting as she walked backwards following Sherlock as he briskly walked to the end of the room towards the area the bodies were stored.

“I'm not here for that Miss. Hooper...”  He said as he quickly leaned in and glanced at the clipboard in her hands, checking to see if Silvia Mooresworth was on her list. He smiled when he spotted her name and then he stopped and spoke to Molly directly.

“I'm here to examine a body. Silvia Mooresworth.” he said, pointing to the name on her list.

“Oh.”

 She said quietly then she sighed displeased at Sherlock because he was once again was disrupting her lunch break.

“Alright,” she said knowing she was being a bit of a pushover for Sherlock, “But you owe me lunch.” She said smiling, attempting to flirt with him. The comment seemed to fly past him, but he smiled none-the-less and Molly was happy enough with that. She looked behind Sherlock and John and noticed a young lady she had never seen before.

“Who's this Sherlock?” Molly asked, timidly, she nodded in the direction of the girl. Her smile dropped suddenly when she began to get a strange feeling when she looked at her. Sherlock was about to explain when Mercy suddenly spoke up “I’m…”

Sherlock cringed and readied himself for impact. _She's going to tell Molly_! He thought, he closed his eyes and clenched his fists as he anticipated what she was about to say.

 

“I’m Sylvia Moorseworth’s daughter.” Mercy stated, blank faced, completely emotionless.

Sherlock silently sighed in relief, telling Molly Hooper that he possibly has a daughter would be last thing he would want to tell her.

            “Oh! Sorry…I mean, I’m sorry for your loss” Molly stuttered apologetically. She blinked at her stupidly, shocked at her lack of grievance.

“Thank you.” Mercy replied blankly.

Molly’s head tilted suddenly as she took a good look at her, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something very familiar about her…

 

“May we see her mother’s body so we may examine it ourselves? You were going to do that this afternoon am I correct?” John asked Molly, interrupting her thoughts and glancing at her clipboard. Molly smiled at him and joked,

 

“Well, I suppose with two doctors and a consulting detective we can get the postmortem examination over and done with much quicker… Then I can have lunch.”

 

She teased looking at Sherlock, then she remembered that the deceased daughter was present and sobered.

“Sorry.” She whispered quickly looking down at her feet, her face red.

 

 

After unlocking the doors, she led them into the cold room where the bodies were stored and rolled out Mercy’s mother into the examining room. Mercy stared at the white zippered bag that contained her mother silently. Before unzipping the bag Molly looked up at her and sympathicly asked,

 

“Are you alright to see this?”

 

Mercy nodded for her to continue and took a deep breath controlling her emotions. Molly rolled back the sheet and revealed her mother’s body. Because she had not already done the examination, the body was still clothed which relieved everyone. Mercy stared at her mother’s grey, cold face with glassy eyes. She stood still, silently taking in every familiar detail and stored it in her memory. Her eyelids were closed and Mercy couldn’t help but wonder to whom her mother’s bright blue eyes were going to be given to.

 

“We need to see her upper thighs.” Sherlock stated looking at Molly. She blinked at him with a disgusted face,

 “Her thighs?”   
“Yes.” Mercy and Sherlock responded at the same time.

 

Molly looked at the two of them then shrugged and proceeded in unbuckling the body’s pants. Molly could not understand why Sherlock had brought the dead woman’s daughter to see her de-clothe her mother. She felt self-conscious as she tried to get the pants off as gently as she could in front of Mercy. She pulled the woman’s shirt down to cover her undergarments.

 

“There.” Mercy said pointing at her mother’s right thigh when Molly had pulled the pants to the knees.

 

John grunted awkwardly before leaning in to see. On her skin she had made notes of each and every drug deal she had with the Black Lotus over the last month. Apparently she had sold at least 500 pounds worth of drugs three weeks previous to her death. On her other leg she had contact numbers to drug growers, suppliers and smuggling coordinators of the Black Lotus. A solid lead. Sherlock pulled out a small digital camera and took pictures of the evidence then returned it to his pocket.  


 

John assisted Molly in taking off the body’s shirt, leaving the undershirt. They then documented her injuries as Sherlock photographed them for evidence. Mercy stood off to the side and watched them work over her mother’s body. She knew her mother was dead, but as she looked at her face, she kept expecting to see her open her eyes and freak out about being barely dressed on a table with people photographing her.

 

 

After twenty minutes they were done the external examination and Sherlock and John went into the room next door to use the hospital computer to email DI Lestrade their findings. Molly stayed in the room with the body and looked her over; planning how she would dissect her later after she had lunch. For a while, Molly completely forgot that Mercy was still in the room with her. She was startled when she suddenly she spoke up.

 

“Are you nearly finished with your examination?” She asked from the corner of the room.

 

Molly gasped and turned to face her, nearly tripping. “Oh my goodness! I’m sorry I forgot you were still in here.” She said with a laugh then she looked at her confused, “Sorry, I never learned your name.”

 

“Mercy.” She whispered, her eyes downcast. Molly tilted her head confused by the different tone of her voice. Mercy began to walk towards her now, she spoke, unable to look her in the eye.

 

“Miss Hooper, may I be left with my mother alone for a few minutes? I promise I won’t be too long and then you can get back to your job.”

 

“Oh. Of course, I’ll… be in the other room next door with the doctor and detective, just let me know when…when you’re done.” Molly said slowly then left the room. Mercy watched her until she left.

 

Molly went straight to the room next door where the boys were still on the computer. She had the weirdest feeling being around Mercy and then there was John’s email about Sherlock wanting a DNA test this morning. She walked straight up to John and whispered,

 

“John I found something I’m not sure about with her body and I want another doctor’s eye if you wouldn’t mind.”

 

John looked up at her, “Ah, sure, just let me save a draft here, one moment.” Then he saved the document and followed Molly as she sped walked into the next room. As soon as they closed the doors behind her Molly explained.

 

“Listen, I didn’t find anything more about the body, I just want to ask you something.”

“Ok…”

            “Why does Sherlock want to have a DNA test?”

 

 

John looked dumb as he tried to search for an appropriate answer. Suddenly they both became aware of Mercy softly crying from behind the glass doors of the Morgue. John gave a look of shock that emotionless Mercy had suddenly cracked, and Molly caught him.

 

“John, who is she really? I have the strangest feeling when I look at her. And Sherlock is acting tenser than usual with her presence.” Molly looked intensely into John’s eyes, waiting for his response. John sighed and gave in, Molly was just too good at reading people, even if she wasn’t the best social person.

 

“It’s a possibility that she’s Sherlock’s daughter. I know its shocking, but she explained everything and It seems quite possible but the only way we can know for sure is if she has a DNA test with Sherlock.” He sighed and walked towards the glass doors to check on her.

 

“Oh my G…. re- really?” Molly whispered stuttering, “I was thinking she was a cousin.”

 

She followed John and peered into the window. Mercy stood at the table where her mother’s body laid, her back towards the two of them. They could hear a muffled sniffling through the glass. She wiped her tears with her sleeve then walked to the edge of the room and slid down to the ground, her back against a wall and hugged her knees. She took no notice of them and continued to sob into her lap.

 

John felt so odd as he watched her crying. A large part of him believed that she was Sherlock’s daughter, they just were so alike in the way they acted and spoke and thought. To John it was like watching Sherlock cry, something he’d only seen or rather, heard once and it sent shivers up his spine watching her cry. It was so against their nature, or at least, the nature they portray to the outside world.  It was both shocking and beautiful to be reminded that they were still human.

 

But Mercy was a young girl. She had suffered abuse and her mother had just been murdered and she had barely escaped with her life. Now she was working with them to try and destroy the only life she knew, all the while trying to get Sherlock, not just any man, but Sherlock to believe that she is his daughter. She hasn’t eaten in three days and probably hasn’t slept because she was hiding from police this was probably her first chance to grieve.

 

Both John and Molly felt like they should be with her and console her, but because she was so much like Sherlock, they weren’t sure how she might react to them. They just stood there watching. When suddenly they heard the doors behind them open as Sherlock walked in.

 

“I sent an email to Lestrade, he’ll text me when he gets it. Are we all done here?” he asked striding up to them with a grin.

 

“Yes.” Molly said quickly, her face suddenly red. She didn’t look at him as she sped out of the room, the situation was too uncomfortable for her. Sherlock watched her go confused then turned to John and looked down at him with a disappointed look.

 

“You told her didn’t you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

            Sherlock sighed, and accepted the situation. He wasn’t sure how he would have broken the news to Molly, Sherlock knew he was often too blunt and would have probably hurt her feelings. In the end, he was glad it was John who told her.

 

“Are we ready to go then?” Sherlock asked, straightening up and pulling his coat together. John didn’t reply, he turned and looked into the room behind him and stared at Mercy. Sherlock noticed him looking and curious he looked inside as well. Inside he saw Mercy, huddled in a corner, sobbing so hard her shoulders were shaking. A chill went up Sherlock’s spine, he shivered and suddenly he had the urge to try and make John look away. He didn’t like it, knowing that John and Molly had seen her crying, made him feel suddenly vonerable and exposed.

 

“I don’t know what I should do Sherlock…” John said, shaking his head as he looked through the window.

 

“Oh, just leave her for a while and let her cry it out and get her wits about her again, let’s go…”

 

Sherlock said, grabbing John’s arm, beginning to pull him away. He was trying to make the situation seem like not a big deal and that it had no effect on him. John resisted Sherlock’s tugging and pulled away and stared Sherlock down.

 

“I think you should go in and talk to her Sherlock.”

“No!”

 

“Yes Sherlock. Even if you are not her father, you two seem to think the same and can understand each other. Also, if you are her father, do you think she would forgive you for leaving her alone to grieve? She needs someone right now. She’s lost everything, her home, her family, her life. She needs to be reminded that we will do the best we can to wrap up the case and help her. And if I know you at all and if she is very much like you, if you were in this state, not under control of your emotions you wouldn’t want anyone to see you in that state. Maybe it’s best for someone like herself to be there. Hmm?”

 

“John….” Sherlock complained, cringing.

 

John stared at him with a knowing look and Sherlock gave in, knowing he was probably right. He sighed deeply and tried to ignore his feelings of uncomfortableness then he walked into the morgue room’s doors. Mercy looked up at him as soon as he came in and stared at him with glassy red-rimmed eyes. She sniffed then looked away and rested her chin into her lap and sighed.

 

“You don’t have to be here Mr. Holmes. I know you’d rather be somewhere else. Watson sent you in didn’t he?”

 

When Sherlock didn’t respond, Mercy knew she was right. He strode up to her and stood to her side looking down at her.

“Are you alright now?” He asked, staring at her with a knowing look. He knew most people would kneel or sit down beside her to comfort her but Sherlock felt that it would only make the situation more awkward for both of them. Mercy sighed and stretched her legs out, relaxing.

 

“I’m done for the moment. I’ve heard that grief usually takes a long time to get over, it’s a long process, sometimes even a lifetime. But you would know all about that wouldn’t you Sherlock?”

 

She looked up at him with intense eyes. Sherlock felt like she was staring right through him like he was glass. Those eyes. They seemed to penetrate into the soul and Sherlock just stood amazing by what she could see of him. He stood blinking and said nothing and Mercy didn’t explain herself. She sighed then with a grunt she got up, wiped her tears from her eyes with her sleeve and followed Sherlock out the door. John said nothing to her and the two men followed behind her.

 

John nodded in approval to Sherlock as if to say, ‘good work’. Then they followed her out of the doors, stepped out of the hospital and were on their way back to Baker St.

 

 

 


	5. The Results; Sherlock learns the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, Here's the moment of truth... THE RESULTS OF THE DNA TEST 
> 
> Please let me know what you think :)

 

Chapter 5: 

 

 

With the new information sent to Lestrade, Sherlock’s job was now done and he left the case to the police to track down the drug organization. That part was boring for Sherlock and he lost interest in it, he was only interested in solving crimes, not necessarily the arrests and court cases. His mind now focused on determining whether or not the girl who was sleeping on Mrs. Hudson’s couch was his own. After their visit to the morgue, Molly talked to a fellow doctor and helped to arrange an appointment for Mercy and Sherlock. Luckily the doctor was not too busy and they were able to come in the next day.

 

They were ushered into a private hospital room and they both had their cheeks swabbed with an synthetic swab with a wooden end to collect theirbuccal cells for DNA analysis. Sherlock was quite fidgety through the whole process and wanted to be 100% assured by the doctor that the results were not to be revealed publicly and not even to family (especially Mycroft). The kind middle-aged doctor, Doctor Raymond Colt, laughed at his uneasiness and promised him that it was completely safe and private and that the people testing it will not even know their identities. This calmed Sherlock’s nerves slightly, but he still was uncomfortable and unsure about the whole thing.

 

When Sherlock had first returned from his ‘suicide’ he became a huge subject in the media. After three years, the attention and spotlight had died down almost completely but Sherlock was afraid that if word came out that he had a secret daughter, the media would have a field day.

 

 It had been five days since their visit to the hospital and now everyone in 221 B just sat around the phone, waiting for the call to inform them to come back to the hospital to hear the results of the test. They barely ventured outside in fear of missing the call or Mercy being seen so they practically locked themselves in and occasionally sent Mrs. Hudson out to grab some groceries. The suspense was killing Sherlock and John and everyone was afraid to say anything to each other.

 

Mercy seemed to be unaffected by the tenseness and she complained to Sherlock she hoped that the results come in quicker so that she can properly identify herself. She kept telling Sherlock that once they got the results, no matter what they reveal, she will then turn herself into the police so that she can get all her things back and hear a reading of her mother’s will. Since Mercy could not go back to her house because it was still being watched by police she had no access to her clothes so Mrs. Hudson had to dig out some of her old clothes from when she was in college and lent them to her.

 

 

To take their minds off of the phone call, Mercy, John and Mrs. Hudson developed a habit of playing card and board games. Mercy was a champion at Boggle, Janga, Uno and Chinese checkers and she or Mrs. Hudson beat poor John badly almost every game. Sherlock generally kept to himself and stayed in his room or focused on typing on his computer. At one point he decided he would join in the games and he and Mercy had an exhausting long match of Chinese checkers consisting of 14 rounds. Frustrated that Mercy beat him so many times, Sherlock then offered to play Cludo but John groaned loudly and shook his head from side to side.

 

“No, no. Never again will we play that game Sherlock. If you suggest that game to me ever again I swear, I will burn it to ashes!”

 

Sherlock frowned, pouting slightly and Mercy and Mrs. Hudson laughed.

 

 

 

After everyone was tired of playing games, they all sat quietly drinking some tea in the living room when Mercy suddenly spoke up.

 

 

“So, If I am proven to not be Sherlock’s daughter, what happens to me then? I’m 18, I’m legally an adult and I’m too old for adoption or foster care. Will the police question me then after they are done with me, leave me to the streets? What about the Black Lotus?”

 

Everyone had been quietly thinking this question in their head those last few days and it was about time they addressed it and figured out what to do. John put down his tea and nodded,

 

“That’s a good question, I’m not sure if you would qualify for a witness protection program. And you are practically an adult. You may be able to get yourself a flat or maybe inherit your old home with the assistance of government welfare.” He said looking over at Sherlock briefly.

 

“Hmmm…,” Mercy nodded, “And if I am Sherlock’s daughter, what then?” She looked up at Sherlock with almost desperate eyes, searching his eyes for some form of acceptance.

 

Everyone now turned and looked at Sherlock waiting for his answer. John had wondered this for a long time, would his friend take her in? John knew that he personally liked Mercy, she was much more fun than Sherlock at times and she was able to read certain things about Sherlock and explain them to John. John would be fine with adding her to the 221B ‘family’ but it was up to Sherlock. Mercy was after all possibly his daughter and if she was, it wasn’t necessarily Sherlock’s duty to take her in and then there was the problem of legal issues and finding a way to accommodate and let her move into 221B. Sherlock and John had enough trouble paying Mrs. Hudson’s rent for their selves in their split flat and John had no idea how they could afford to have Mercy live there as well.

 

Sherlock sat still as a stone with glazed eyes for a long time as he thought it over. He sighed and set down his teacup on the coffee table beside his armchair and stared at it as he finally spoke.

 

“Well…” he began, shifting his head and cracking his neck, “If Mercy is clinically proven to 100% be my…offspring… I suppose I would be…well…” he paused to clear his throat awkwardly, “I would be willing to take her in.”

 

“Oh Sherlock…” Mrs. Hudson sighed proudly. Her sweet old eyes danced with pride for her Sherlock was growing up. John smiled and looked at Mercy relieved and happy that her living with them was a possibility. Mercy blushed and smiled happily, tears threatening to well up in her eyes. She gulped the emotions down and whispered a,

‘Thank you.”

 

Sherlock’s face stayed expressionless and he didn’t look at Mercy, he reached to his side and grabbed his tea to take another sip.

 

 “But you must understand Mercy…” he continued suddenly breaking the excited atmosphere, “I cannot afford for you to stay here, you are 18 and you could get a job to assist in paying your rent to Mrs. Hudson. And then there’s the problem of rooming, Watson and I have already taken the two bedrooms that are part of 221B so there is no room for you but I believe 221C is still unoccupied. Is that right Mrs. Hudson?” he asked his land lady.

 

“Can’t get anyone interested in that space, shame it just sitting there unused. The room needs work and a through renovation, I fear there may be mold so that will need to be taken care of first but after that’s done I see no reason why you shouldn’t live there. I could give you a student discount if you are planning to go to a school..” Mrs. Hudson piped getting excited about fixing up the room. Mercy shrugged and sighed frustrated with herself,

 

“Unfortunately, Mrs. Hudson I still do not know what I want to do with my life so I will not be going to school just yet, but I do have a job. It’s a minimum wage job as a waitress and barista at a little coffee shop at the corner of _____St. It’s called McGill Café. I work there every Monday, Saturday, and Sunday and Thursday afternoons for six hours most of the time. I can also pay with my mother’s money once her will is read to me and once I turn 21. I also have a lot of money in the bank from odd jobs over the years and my mother and I had an emergency bank account that we shared so I can access that. I will probably be able to pay your my rent as long as I keep my job, until I’m old enough to inherit my mother’s money. Then I can try to sell my old house.” She said shrugging.

 

John smiled and slapped his knee in satisfaction, “Well then, It seems we are all set if Mercy is really Sherlock’s daughter. Now all we need is for the hospital to confirm or deny…” John was suddenly interrupted when Sherlock’s phone suddenly rang.

 

 

“Well speak of the angel …” Mercy chuckled, “If that’s the hospital now…”

 

Sherlock answered the phone with a calm, “Hello?” then he nodded twice ad closed his eyes sighing then after a pause as he listened he said, “Alright we will be there.” Then he hung up his phone and returned it to his pocket.

 

**“WELL?...”**

Everyone in the room practically screamed suddenly at Sherlock when he did not immediately explain the phone call. They had all been waiting and watching in anticipation and could not read anything on Sherlock’s calm, emotionless face. Sherlock rolled his eyes then half smiled as if amused by their ‘cliff hanger’.

 

“That was the doctor at the hospital calling and…” Sherlock began slowly when John suddenly interrupted,

 

“ **YES?...!”** he exclaimed, he looked at Sherlock in shock, his mouth hung wide open, he stared blinking.

 

Sherlock frowned and shook his head slowly while waving his hand dismissingly,

 

“No, No wait… He was calling to tell me that…”

 

“So… **NO**?” Mrs. Hudson and Mercy asked in unison, disappointed. Mercy looked sadly at the floor, turning to hide her face in embarrassment and shame. Sherlock was getting frustrated,

 

“Wait, I never said…or, He never said rather…” Sherlock began when John interrupted again.

**“So what is it then? What did the tests say?”**

 

Mercy sat silently waiting, suddenly realizing that Sherlock didn’t know, he couldn’t. She remembered that they wouldn’t tell just through email or phone, but only from a doctor at a meeting to discuss the results.

 

 **“Yes or No?!”** Mrs. Hudson demanded impatiently.

 

Sherlock’s arms shot up into the air and he shook them jerkily as he angrily boomed,

 

“SHUT UP EVERYONE AND LET ME SPEAK!”

 

Everyone sobered like scolded children and after a moment of silence to let his frustration calm down, Sherlock began again and explained the phone call.

 

“They were just phoning to tell me that they have the results of the test and we arranged to meet the doctor tomorrow morning at eight to discuss the results with him. That’s all.” 

 

“Oh.” Everyone whispered embarrassed and looked at their feet. Sherlock got up from his seat and said in a very annoyed voice,

 

“Now if you would excuse me, I’m going to get some early rest before tomorrow.” He stated and then he stormed out of the living room without being excused.

 

Everyone now sat in the room looking awkwardly at each other, daring not to talk. Without speaking, they all decided they would go to bed as well.

 

 

The next morning, everyone got up early to be sure that they would not miss the moment Sherlock and Mercy left for the hospital. Mercy sat in Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen and she could barely eat her cereal in front of her. She was so nervous of being wrong that she felt sick to her stomach but Mrs. Hudson used her ‘motherly’ skills to persuade her to eat it  by staring at her and refusing to stop until all the cereal was consumed.

 

In the flat upstairs where John and Sherlock were eating breakfast, the room was dead silent. John dared not speak to Sherlock, even though he really wanted to ask if he could tag along and wait in the waiting room for them at the hospital so he could hear the results as soon as they got them, instead of waiting for hours for them to get back and share the news. He kept clearing his throat and turning to Sherlock then, abandoned asking. Finally he plucked up the courage to ask.

 

“Um, Sherlock…Do you mind if I…?” he began when Sherlock interrupted him suddenly,

 

 “No.”

 

“No, you don’t mind?” John asked cautiously unsure what Sherlock meant.

 

“No, I **DO** mind.” 

 

“You do…?”

 

“ **Yes.** ”

 

“Ok…”

 

John nodded and said no more, then he stuffed his mouth with toast to keep his mouth shut.

 

            Before long, the time came for Sherlock and Mercy to head out to the hospital for their appointment. John stood at the top of the stairs, watching them as they were heading out. As they were heading towards the door Mrs. Hudson hugged them each, Sherlock cringed slightly when she hugged him. When she hugged Mercy she smiled and whispered in her ear,

            “I really do hope you can be part of the family…there’s just not enough women around this place for me to chat with.”

 

            Mercy smiled warmly at her and gave a slight chuckle, and then she whispered a goodbye to her in her ear. Sherlock grunted impatiently to tell her they needed to get going so she nodded to John then they stepped out the door and into the cab that was waiting for them.

 

            They didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the hospital, honestly because, they didn’t know what to say. Sherlock wasn’t sure what he thought of the girl, he was struggling to figure out if he disliked her or if he thought he could grow used to her. What Sherlock realized now as he sat in this cab on the way to get the results, was he was worried. He didn’t know what it would mean if he really did have a daughter and have her live in 221C with them.

 

            Sherlock rarely liked change, he had a certain way of living and working and a certain ‘atmosphere’ that he was comfortable with and he didn’t want it to change. What if she got in the way of his work such as getting sick or weeping over a broken relationship (though John would know more on that) or she would just do things that distracted him? Sherlock shuddered in annoyance just thinking of all the ways she could possibly get on his nerves. But what Sherlock was most afraid of was to find out that Mercy was in fact not nearly as smart as he had observed her to be from the few days he’s known her. He was horrified by the thought of producing a dumb child.

 

            Mercy still felt sick to her stomach, although it was not as bad as before. For so long she had hoped to finally meet her father, the famous Sherlock Holmes. She had read about him in newspapers and read Watson’s blog and The Science of Deduction and had created an idea of who Sherlock was and how he would react to her, but Sherlock was a little different than she had imagined him to be. She knew he was probably scared and uncomfortable with the whole situation but because he was feeling that, he tried to avoid her at any cost. When he was around her he was cold, statue-like and continually tried to contradict her as if he wanted to prove everything she said was wrong. Perhaps he just wanted her to be wrong about him being her father.

 

            Although she wouldn’t admit it, it crushed her to feel so disliked and unaccepted by her biological father. She didn’t expect him to be completely comfortable or excited about the whole thing but she had hoped that he would at least try to connect with her in some way.

 

            Before they knew it they had arrived at the hospital. The two waited for a couple minutes in the waiting room when a nurse informed them that Dr. Colt was ready for them. Sherlock and Mercy exchanged a nervous glance then followed the nurse into another hospital examining room. Dr. Colt greeted them with a small smile and motioned to the two chairs for the two to sit down. Sherlock and Mercy both could tell immediately that the doctor must have had a busy week because he seemed quite tired and had dark circles under his eyes. He also seemed tense for some reason because he seemed to be troubled or worried about something, probably about the patient before them or perhaps his family life.

 

 

            He took a few moments to look over his papers and centre himself to his new patients. Mercy and Sherlock sat quietly waiting for the doctor. Dr. Colt sighed and then looked up at them from his seat in front of them and smiled tiredly.

 

“Ok… Mr. Holmes and Mercy Mooresworth, DNA tests…” he said as he flipped through the file of papers in his hands. “I got the documents emailed in to me from the laboratory and they had confirmed your suspicions…” he paused a moment and Sherlock and Mercy held their breaths and readied themselves for the truth. Doctor Colt continued,

 

            “They have confirmed Mr. Holmes, that Mercy is 100% your daughter. Congratulations, you are a father.”

 

            The doctor smiled at him, but then looked at Sherlock nervously unable to read his reaction. The doctor didn’t know if Sherlock was just trying to get to the bottom of a problem or if he actually wanted to know if he had a daughter and would be excited about it.

 

            Sherlock sat speechless, his face completely frozen in a single expression of utter shock. His breathing was heavy and sporadic. His eyes darted rapidly back and forth as if he was trying to sort out the information he had just received. Mercy looked nervously at her father, she slowly reached out her arm and gently touched his arm.

 

“Sherlock…?”

 

            He flinched suddenly and shock his head back to reality. “Oh um, sorry…I’m fine.”

 

Doctor Colt sighed in relief and looked quickly at Mercy then continued.

 

            “Now that you know for sure, it’s up to you two where you can go on from here. You could choose to take in Mercy to your home and life or just visit her from time to time or never see her again. It is not your responsibility to take her in and provide for her because as I understand it you were never in a long term relationship or marriage with her late mother.”

 

            Mercy looked at Sherlock desperately hoping that Sherlock would stick to what he told her and let her stay with them at 221B/C. Doctor Colt coughed then stood up and handed the files to Sherlock’s slightly quivering hand. The doctor explained, looking at his watch that he was due for the next patient. They thanked the doctor then walked out of the room and made their way out of the hospital without a word.

 

            Sherlock ordered a cab to pick them up at the hospital on his phone and then texted John a brief message to let him and Mrs. Hudson that they were done and were heading back. When the cab arrived the two got in and the cabbie pulled away from the hospital. Sherlock leaned forward to tell the cabbie where they were going.

 

“Regents Park please.”

 

Mercy’s eyes widened in confusion, she turned and looked at him,

            “I thought we were going back to your flat…”

 

            Sherlock finally looked at her and shook his head, “I thought we should take a quick stop first to figure this out before we tell the folks back at 221B the news.” 

 

Mercy looked worried but she trusted him. “Ok…” she whispered.

            Soon the cab rolled up to the garden and they paid and got out. Sherlock and Mercy walked down the path into the centre of the park where there were park benches. Sherlock motioned for Mercy to sit down, he stayed standing. He sighed while looking at his feet, trying to centre his emotions before he spoke, Mercy waited patiently.

 

            “Mercy I want you to understand something about me before we make anything official. We now know that I am as you said, I am indeed your father. But I want you to understand that I may never be as you hoped I would be and it will take me a long time to come to terms with it. I’ve always considered myself married to my work and I have little time or interests in relationships so I’ve never given becoming a father or even a husband or boyfriend much thought. I’ve never considered the possibility of having a child in the future and I honestly don’t know how I am supposed to react to…this. I really didn’t have the best relationship with my own father and he wasn’t around enough to be a good enough example of how I’m supposed to treat you.”

 

            He said stating the facts, completely expressionless. He scratched his head through his thick curls and then rested his hand on the back of his neck. To Mercy’s surprise his face became pale, as the blood drained from his face as the reality of it all began to settle in.

 

“I just don’t know how to react to this…”

 

Mercy nodded in understanding, she sighed and looked up at him,

 

            “I’m so sorry to be putting you through this Sherlock, thank you for being patient with me and thank you for offering to let me stay at 221B and C. I’ve always wanted to meet you someday, I just had no idea it would be in this way. When my mother was killed I had nowhere else to go and I knew that if I was to go to a foster home or live on my own everyone would expect me to be trouble because of my mother’s past. I don’t really expect you to instantly accept me as your daughter and completely excited about it. If I was in your shoes I would be shocked and nervous too. This whole thing is out of our comfort zones. If it would make you feel more comfortable I promise that I will try my best to stay away from you and Watson when you are busy on a case or whenever you have guests and I won’t introduce myself as your daughter unless you tell me it’s ok.  In fact I could pretend to be your or Watson’s niece or maybe…”

 

            Mercy began, her eyes growing bright as a brilliant idea crossed her mind,

 

            “What if I called myself your apprentice? It could explain why I live at 221C because you do a lot of your work in 221B and it would explain why I am around you and Watson. All I would have to do is every so often follow you to some cases and all you have to do is what you normally do but occasionally point things out to me and ask me obvious questions and I’ll pretend to be learning and I’ll write down notes! I think it would be far less embarrassing for you to explain that you are taken in an apprentice than suddenly discovering that you have a daughter. What about that?  I won’t call you father or dad I will call you Sherlock or Mr. Holmes.”

 

 She asked suddenly excited. Sherlock blinked, a small smile formed on his lips as he thought it through.

 

            Even though some people like Lestrade, Anderson and Donavon who may buy it after some convincing but Sherlock knew he would have to tell Lestrade the truth to explain why a murdered woman’s daughter who was missing suddenly is living in 221C and why Sherlock didn’t tell him. Sherlock also realized with a feeling of dread, that if Mycroft ever happened to see Mercy with Sherlock or come over, he would figure it out. He knew it was best to tell him right away rather than suffer the embarrassment of attempting to hide it from him. He began nodding, seeing that it could work quite nicely.

 

“Alright, I think I could live with that. Yes, I do think that could work.”

 

Mercy grinned now, her eyes twinkled with excitement.

 

            “And the best part is, you don’t have to feel pressure to be a dad because to everyone’s eye, you are not a dad. I am not your daughter but your apprentice. All you have to do is appear to be a mentor or teacher to me outside the walls of the flat. And even inside all you have to be is yourself, I don’t want to ask you to change, I just want to be a part of your life and I hope you can be a part of mine in return. Just think of me as a new flatmate or niece or even a little sister. I’m an adult technically so you can treat me as such.”

 

Sherlock grinned now and he stuck his hand out for a handshake, Mercy shook it firmly.

 

“Deal.”

 


	6. Sherlock confronts Lestrade

 

Chapter 6:

 

 

            John was so bored waiting that he and Mrs. Hudson were watching the telly. He knew he could be doing something else like dishes or laundry but the TV was closest to open front entrance to the living room and so he could hear the precise moment Sherlock and Mercy got back. It was just around lunch time when John heard the front door down stairs unlocking. Sherlock and Mercy walked in, with blank, unreadable expressions. John glanced at Mrs. Hudson from her seat and they both leapt up and ran down the stairs.

 

            "Well? What did you find out?"

 

            John asked as calmly as he could when he reached them. Sherlock just gave him an impatient look and he took off his coat and slung it over his arm. He then turned around to Mercy and extended his arm in her direction and she took off her coat and added it to his arm. Mrs. Hudson saw this gesture and smiled, taking it as a good sign. Without speaking a word Sherlock and Mercy walked up the stairs to the living room and John and Mrs. Hudson followed them. Sherlock hung their coats on the coat rack and John and Mrs. Hudson stood waiting for him to speak.

 

            Mercy and Sherlock stood beside each other facing the other two, with no expression on their faces.

           

            "The doctors and the laboratory have concluded that..." He began, taking the files out from behind him,

 

"That Mercy is indeed mine. It’s confirmed and Mercy will be staying here with us." He stated.

 

            Mercy's stone face suddenly broke and she beamed happily and she laughed when she saw John and Mrs. Hudson's reactions. John smiled happily but then became serious and looked at Sherlock eyebrows raised, concerned,

 

             "And you are sure that you are quite comfortable with this?"

 

            Sherlock nodded, a grin now on his face, his eyes bright.

 

"Quite sure. Mercy and I have planned out a lot of it already and we actually have another announcement to make..."

 

            He gestured towards Mercy who stepped forward and spoke, "I'm going to be apprenticing under Sherlock to become a consultant detective! That way, Sherlock could explain why I live here and why I'm around. No one needs to know I'm a Holmes."

 

John looked thoughtful for a moment thinking it over, then he frowned realizing something.

            “But wouldn’t that get in the way of your job at the café you mentioned? We never know when Lestrade or a client comes in need of our services. Remember you need to pay your rent to Mrs. Hudson.” John reminded Mercy.

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and looked down at Mercy expectantly. She smiled and shifted her weight and slid her hands into her pockets.

 

            “I did consider that, I thought that I could use one of your laptop’s to rewrite my resume so that I could print it and drop it off at Speedy’s next door. They do serve cappuccinos and lattes and espressos etc. I could work there next door and I’m sure you two know the owners and could go with me to talk with them about the situation of suddenly getting a client…”

 

            Mrs. Hudson frowned for a moment, which confused Mercy. John and Sherlock both looked at their landlady and she grumbled, “I know the owner…”

 

Mercy smiled happily, “Great!, now Sherlock… I promised you, I need to turn myself in to police because they are still looking for me…” She reminded.

 

            Sherlock nodded and pulled out his phone to call Lestrade. He then stepped into the kitchen to remove background noise and dialed the number. John, Mrs. Hudson and Mercy smiled at each other and John silently shook Mercy’s hand welcoming her to the family. Mrs. Hudson squeaked with delight and looped her arm with Mercy’s and lead her down to her flat for tea all the way talking excitedly how they would go shopping together and do all kinds of ‘lady’ stuff. 

 

            Sherlock waited for the phone to dial, after the third ring Lestrade picked up.

 

“Detective Inspector Lestrade here…” he stated in his tough, gruff voice when he picked up the phone. Sherlock sighed silently in dread because he knew he would have to tell Lestrade about Mercy when he came over…

 

            “It’s Sherlock. I need you to come down here to my flat, we need to discuss something about the Mooresworth case, something that can’t be discussed simply through a phone call.”

 

There was a brief pause as Lestrade was trying to remember the case then remembering he became confused,

 

            “The Mooresworth case? I thought you were done telling me everything you found out about that case. Please tell me you haven’t been investigating behind my back have you?” he asked, his tone becoming threatening, as if scolding a guilty child.

 

“No, no…” Sherlock assured him, “I haven’t done anything to threaten your illusionary feeling of control of law enforcement…”

 

            “Well, Good.”

 

“It’s just…” Sherlock  began as he peered out of the kitchen and looked at the doorway where Mercy and Mrs. Hudson left, “Something else has popped up…you don’t need to bring anyone else, I need only you.”

 

            There was another pause as Lestrade was trying to figure out what Sherlock was getting at, but he decided he would trust Sherlock anyway,

 

            “…Ok Sherlock… I’ll tell the boys I’m popping out after my lunch. We’ve had not too much progress with the other cases and to be honest, I’m glad to have something else catch my attention.” 

 

            After saying goodbyes, Sherlock hung up, straightened his shirt and walked back into the living room. Mercy and Mrs. Hudson came back up the stairs carrying a tray of filled tea cups and a pot as well as multiple small sandwich wraps for lunch and they set them on the kitchen table. Everyone sat down and John Watson looked around at all his friends and laughed, he picked up his tea cup and proposed a toast.

 

            “To the 221B and C gang!”

 

“To the many cases to be solved in the future.” Sherlock joined in slightly amused.

 

            “To all the craziness about to ensue!” Mrs. Hudson piped up.

 

“To ladies, men and sociopaths!”  Mercy added, grinning.

 

           

            Then they all raised their cups and clinked them together in the centre of the table without spilling a drop of tea. They then sipped their tea happily and each imagined what the future would hold for the four of them. After lunch Mrs. Hudson took Mercy down the hall towards her front door to her flat and they stopped at the glass windowed door before hers labelled 221C with rusty metal letters.

 

            Mercy waited for Mrs. Hudson to find her keys in her flat then they unlocked the door and went down the stairs and through the second door into the basement flat. It was just a room, because Mrs. Hudson rarely had anyone looking for a flat she had found no excuse to renovate or redecorate the room. Unlike Holmes and Watson’s flat, 221C was for just one occupant, having only one bedroom. Walking through the door you were immediately in the living room. There was a white marble fireplace directly across the room from the doorway and an old stand up mirror leaned in the left corner of the room. On top of the fireplace there was another old mirror supposed to be hung above it. There were two large windows on the left side of the room looking outside to the alleyway between the buildings. The wallpaper was a faded version of the wallpaper upstairs in the living room of 221B and it was peeling badly off of the walls. There was no furniture in any of the rooms, living room, bedroom or kitchen.

 

            The kitchen was small but had the potential to be cosy. Mercy and Mrs. Hudson would have to find a fridge and microwave and oven and other kitchen appliances as well as furniture for the living room and bedroom things if Mercy could not get her old home’s furniture. She really hoped she could, she was pretty sure she could take all of the stuff from her bedroom at least but there may be some form of legal issues with the inheritance with the rest of the furniture.

 

            Mercy had already planned out in her head that she would generally treat her flat as just a bedroom and she planned to cook for the ‘boys’ in their apartment and spend most of her time there. In fact the more she planned ahead she realized that she may be able to solve a regularly disputed problem of 221B’s constantly cluttered kitchen table. Other than sitting at the fire or watching her own telly Mercy saw no other use for the living room for just herself. She decided she would offer Sherlock a chance to come and set up his own ‘lab’ in her living room, therefore, leaving the 221B kitchen to be a kitchen.

 

            The bedroom was decently sized, not too small but not incredibly spacious which meant that Mercy would have to store most of her crap, collections and books in the living room. She planned to put her electric and acoustic guitars and her electric keyboard in the living room as well. Mercy estimated she would be able to fit a queen sized bed, large dresser, large wardrobe and a desk and chair into the bedroom. She was thrilled when Mrs. Hudson explained that the small bathroom down the hall had the plumbing for a shower. There was a shower in there, but it was very old and had to go.

 

            “I love it!” Mercy exclaimed after Mrs. Hudson was done the tour. The old landlady was  shocked but smiled, cocking her head.

 

“You do dear? It isn’t too run down for you? I’ve never been able to get anyone interested in this shabby room, even after I solved the problem with the mould and dampness.”

 

            Mercy shook her head and insisted, “No, no! I can see it’s got a lot of potential; it just needs some renovating and redecorating. For example…”

 

            Mercy began as she spread her hands out in front of her towards the back walls around the marble fireplace,

 

            “I can see us re- dry walling this place and instead of wall paper, we could paint the walls a rich red burgundy which would look gorgeous with a fire and get some old fashioned mirrors with baroque-esk gold frames to decorate the walls. Then we could cover up the floor’s past water damage stains with some new dark stained hardwood and it would match my mother’s furniture and bookshelves. We can do a lot with the other rooms as well. We could turn this flat into one that others would regret not buying!”

 

            Mrs. Hudson thought it over, nodding her head and imagining what Mercy had described. She placed her hand gently on her throat and wrapped her opposite arm around herself and smiled at Mercy growing excited about the project that awaited them.

 

            “Well, it will cost a bit to fix it up but I suppose in the long run it would be worth it. Consider the re-decoration and renovation as your ‘welcome home and welcome to the family’ gift from me. I will definitely be needing your help along with the boys and anyone else’s help to fix up this place.” She said sighing, seeing the task before her.

 

            Upstairs above them, while Mercy and Mrs. Hudson were planning, Lestrade arrived at the front door as Sherlock requested.

 

            “Well Sherlock, I’m here, what is it you dragged me out of work to tell me?” Lestrade demanded, with annoyed tone in his voice, but Sherlock knew that he was relieved by the change of scenery. John looked at Sherlock awkwardly, nudging him on to explain. Sherlock sighed then took a deep breath and offered Lestrade a seat, which he refused. All three men stood standing in the living room as Sherlock began to speak.

 

“The case has gotten far more complicated for me than we expected.” He began.

 

            “…And something popped up?” Lestrade asked interrupting, trying to get to the point without any of Sherlock’s usual theatrical flourishes of detail to the story. Sherlock hesitated then stiffly nodded, the feeling of dread growing stronger within him. John, felt so sorry for his friend as he watched the situation unfold knowing how terribly embarrassing this was going to be for him.

 

“Yes…” Sherlock whispered. Lestrade’s expression furrowed with Sherlock’s behaviour and his voice became softer as he was unsure about Sherlock’s state.

 

            “What was it?” he asked.

           

            Sherlock now looked away and turned his back to the detective inspector. He stared out of the living room window and fought every impulse to run away from the situation or find a way to lie his way out of it.

 

            “Not ‘what was it?’ but ‘Who’ was it inspector…who is it?” Sherlock began now turning around to face him again, “The missing girl from this case, Silvia Mooresworth’s daughter, Mercy has been found.”

 

The older man, the detective’s eyebrows raised and he looked at the two of them, concerned.

 

            “Is she dead? Did the bastard kill her too?”

 

            Sherlock shook his head, he gave a slight grin amused, “Oh, no she’s very much alive. She’s in the basement right now.”

 

“WHAT??” Lestrade asked slightly scared as he imagined them holding the girl captive for questioning in the basement.

 

John stepped up to the inspector and explained, “She’s with Mrs. Hudson right now looking at the flat below us. She’s looking to stay here and become an apprentice of Sherlock.”

 

Lestrade’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped,

 

            “YOU, TAKING IN AN APPRENTICE??? THE DRUG DEALER’S DAUGHTER WANTS TO BECOME A CONSULTING DETECTIVE? She wants to work with you and Sherlock, so suddenly after her mother was just murdered?” Lestrade couldn’t fathom such a situation, not even in his dreams.

 

            “Yes.” Said Mercy from the doorway behind him with an honest expression on her face. Lestrade turned around to see her behind him and looked her up and down.

 

“But,” Sherlock continued in a pained voice, “There’s something else that I need to tell you…”

 

            “What?” Lestrade asked cautiously. 

 

            Sherlock picked up the file from the DNA testing laboratory from the small coffee table beside John’s chair where he had sat down earlier to look at the document. Slowly he handed it to the inspector and then cringed as he watched his eyes widen as he read the documents.

 

            “You’ve got to be kidding me…REALLY?” Lestrade exclaimed as he continued to read over the document. His eyes left the page, “I would have thought that John was way more likely to get a girl accidently pregnant than you!” he said turning in the direction of John, suddenly he realized what he was saying and he quickly added, “No offense to either of you…”

 

Even though John felt a little insulted, he shook his head and agreed with the inspector,

 

            “No, no. We both thought the same…”

 

“Wow…um… congratulations Sherlock” Lestrade stammered then he turned to Mercy, “…and Mercy.”

 

            He stood in shock his head felt dizzy and he decided he would sit down in John’s chair after all. He rubbed his hand through his spikey silver hair and was flabbergasted.

 

            “So, care to clue me in on, like, everything? Why you hid her for a week from me and how…um, you became a father? And the whole apprenticeship thing…?” Lestrade asked, hopelessly lost. He slumped in the chair and looked desperately at Sherlock. John noticed that Sherlock was getting a little overwhelmed so he decided to speak up and explain.

 

            “After you took us to the Mooresworth home, the morning after Mercy appeared at our door,” John explained as he walked over to the girl and rested a hand on her shoulder, “She told Sherlock that she would give him all the information he needed for the case because she didn’t want to be judged incorrectly by the police because of her mother. She also had nowhere to go and her mother had told her that Sherlock was her father. I’m going to spare Sherlock from further embarrassment by being very brief, her drug dealing mother was drunk and had a crush on younger Sherlock, one night Sherlock was super high and she took advantage of the situation. She became pregnant and Sherlock had no idea or memory of what happened whatsoever.”

Sherlock then walked over to his desk and pulled some papers out of a huge messy pile and handed them to Lestrade who just stared up at his ‘sociopath’ ‘friend’.

 

            “This is everything Mercy knows on the murder, the murderer and the case. I hope you can take this and spare her from having to bring her into the police for questioning.” Sherlock explained. Lestrade nodded. John cleared his throat pulling at his sweater collar awkwardly and continued,

 

            “Naturally Sherlock didn’t believe her but he had known her mother when he had struggled with drugs and he knew he wasn’t in control of himself back then so we had decided the only way to get to the bottom of it was to have a DNA test, which Molly Hooper from the morgue helped us to arrange. Basically we just hid her for the week until we had the results and Sherlock and Mercy actually just got them this morning.”

 

Now Mercy felt it was her turn to speak so she walked up to the inspector and smiled,

 

            “I understood how embarrassing it would be for Sherlock if the people in your division found out about me so to spare him I concocted a scheme to pretend to be Sherlock’s apprentice and I would occasionally come with him and write notes while he works on his cases. I will be moving into 221C and I will likely be seen with him and John so to clear any suspicion, I will not be known as his daughter but his student. But Sir, we will need your help to convince the others in your division and to help me breeze over the  police questioning me, Oh, and if you could arrange to help me get my things from my house and my mother’s inheritance earlier, you see I’m only 18, and I need furniture for my flat…” Mercy asked, pleading with the inspector.

 

            Everyone waited for the detective inspector to speak, he sat deep in thought, no words came from his mouth he was speechless.

 

“Wow…” was all he could say at first but he finally was able to find some words as he got up to leave.

 

            “Don’t worry your secret is safe with me Sherlock, I know that the others can be asses to you. I’ll play along but you know how bad at acting I am.” He said addressing him then he turned to Mercy and his eyes softened as he tried to be nice to her, remembering her late mother,            

 

            “Don’t worry, these notes are enough for me, I’ll tell the stations to stop the search for you. And I have to talk to some people about your possessions first since your mother did hide drugs and all your possessions will have to be searched more thoroughly first but I do think I can get you your things. I don’t think you can inherit your house just yet but you should be able to get a few pieces of furniture in the meantime before you turn 21.” He said assuring her.

 

            Lestrade made his way to the door with the witness notes and then stopped and turned back to look at everyone in 221B and he shook his head chuckling to himself. Lestrade knew knowing Sherlock would change his life and he knew weird things would happen but even after so many years knowing him he and the rest of 221B occupants never ceased to amaze him. Honestly Lestrade felt that every time he stepped into the doors of 221B or every time he bumped into Sherlock it was like stepping into a tv set, everything was just so surreal.

 

“Wow.” He muttered to himself smiling, then he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sherlock...


	7. Surprise Visit :)

Chapter 7:

 

 

            It had been a couple of weeks since Lestrade’s visit and Sherlock felt he was on the verge of losing his mind. There had not been a single case for him in at least two weeks, not even a dull or incredibly obvious one! And to make matters worse he and John had spent most of their time helping to fix up 221C for Mercy to live in. They had already hired men to re-drywall the walls and rip up the old damaged floor and had an electrician look over all the wires. Yesterday a plumber came in and fixed all the pipes for the kitchen and bathroom and installed a new sink for both as well as a nice new walk in shower.

 

            Everyone was assigned a room to paint and to Sherlock’s dismay he was stuck with painting the living room red, burgundy. After applying the first layer Sherlock realized in horror that it created a hot pink, which he tried to convince Mercy it was a perfect girly colour in an attempt to get out of doing the rest of the job. Mercy shook her head and insisted on dark burgundy. In the end, it took five layers to get the desired colour. After he was finished, Sherlock never wanted to see the room ever again but then Mercy told him her plan to convert half of the room into his own lab space and he quickly changed his mind.

 

            When she told him this his eyes widened with excitement and to Mercy’s utter surprise (and John’s who was standing in the doorway) he lunged quickly forward and tightly wrapped his long arms around her, squeezing her for about two and a half seconds, then he let go suddenly. He then speed walked out the door and up the stairs to get out of the situation, but he wasn’t quick enough because John caught a glimpse of his bright pink, blush.

 

            “Aww…” John said smirking while leaning in the doorway, he cocked his head and shared a chuckle with Mercy.

 

“Well…” Mercy breathed as if she was out of breath, she grinned and blushed,

 

            “That was incredibly unexpected…”

 

 

            After a couple more days after the hardwood and tiling was done and Lestrade helped arrange for her things and furniture was transported the flat was done and it felt like home. Mercy wasn’t even done unpacking her belongings before Sherlock had already brought all his lab equipment down and set up his laboratory space in the left side of the room right as you walk in the door. He arranged his toys on the old table from Mercy’s basement that her mother had cooked drugs on, overtop of the black and white checkered tiling. The first half of the room was tile as well as the kitchen and bathroom because of water, baking and chemicals. The rest was all deep brown oak hardwood.

 

            The kitchen was stocked with all her dishes from home as well as many of the appliances and her living room furniture was moved into the living room. She didn’t have room for the big leather couch but she did have room for her black leather loveseat and chair with bronze metal studs that matched. These were placed facing the fireplace with the wood coffee table in front of them. Her bedroom was painted in a deep purple that faded slowly to lighter shades towards the bottom of the wall. All her books were arranged on her bookshelves and her desk was set up in the corner. Seeing all her things again and especially the furniture from her home was extremely painful for Mercy and she forced back her tears when anyone came down to check on her. She hated that her first impressions of herself to the group were emotional ones because she knew that neither of the men were very emotional and she didn’t want them looking down on her. But the truth was, Mercy was extremely emotional which was the biggest difference between her father and herself.

 

            She didn’t like being emotional but she had decided a long time ago that it was better to let emotions out than let them build up inside and make her a ticking time bomb. Although Mercy admits she’s emotional, people don’t always see it because she would often hide her real feelings until others are out of the room. When she was angry she could be very aggressive so whenever someone presses her buttons she would usually think of strangling them and she would clench her hands and grit her teeth and let herself shake with rage for a moment but then was a way of venting her aggressiveness she would then end up crying. She knew many people would view this reaction as weak but in reality it was really showing how strong Mercy was and how she could control herself. This technique has saved many mirrors from breaking, many tables from flipping, plates from smashing and teeth from going missing… But right now Mercy wasn’t angry, she was just sad and she felt lonely but she kept smiling because she reminded herself that now she had a family so she wasn’t alone.

 

            Her thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. Hudson perkily popped her into the doorway.

           

            “Whoo, Whoo!” she said happily as she tapped on the doorway, “We are all upstairs in the ‘boy’s’ flat if you want to join us for dinner…” Mercy smiled and nodded thankfully to the sweet landlady (Mercy had no groceries yet). She followed Mrs. Hudson upstairs and she was greeted by a surprise. A group of people stared at her through the doorway of 221B. John and Sherlock were there of course but so was the detective inspector Lestrade and even Molly from the morgue! Molly looked shyly at Mercy and she tried to smile, she had no idea why John had invited her but she came anyway, she wanted to support Sherlock but even more, she wanted to get to know his daughter.

 

            “Surprise!” they all cheered smiling, raising wine glasses containing raspberry punch. Mercy stood speechless in the doorway, her mouth hung open. She looked at Sherlock who was hiding in the far corner of the room, holding a newspaper, for an explanation. But Mrs. Hudson answered her unasked questions when she stepped forward; wrapped her arm into Mercy’s and led her into the room.

 

            “We wanted to give you a little party to officially welcome you into the family, the business and your new home!” she beamed, holding her hands on her heart with pride.

 

“Oh,” Mercy muttered in shock, she smiled but on the inside she was totally freaking out.

           

            “Ok everyone!” Mrs. Hudson called, getting everyone’s attention, “Lunch is ready! Dive in!”

 

            Everyone lined up and entered the kitchen where there was a verity of pot luck on the clean kitchen table. John sighed relieved as he looked at the table surface.

 

            “It’s so beautiful! I was beginning to believe I would never see this kitchen table cleared of Sherlock’s junk!” he joked, pretending to be moved. He lovingly stroked the table surface.

 

            He wiped a fake tear from his eye. Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance and everyone laughed. After filling their plates everyone found a spot to sit, socialize and eat. Mercy felt a little overwhelmed because everyone was trying to small talk to her, attempting to make her feel more relaxed but she knew that they were all trying to get to know her and she was worried about making the wrong impression of herself.

 

            As Mercy was trying to find a spot to sit down and eat she accidentally bumped into Molly and nearly spilled some punch on her.

 

            “Oh! Sorry…” Mercy stuttered and tried not to make  eye contact with her. The last time she had seen Molly was at the morgue…where her mother’s dead body was being stored. It was the last time she had seen her mother. Silvia Mooresworth was an orphan and did not have many real  friends because she didn’t want to reveal her ‘operation’ and so she did not have a funeral. After Mercy said goodbye her mother’s body was then cremated, and her ashes were now in a jar, in a box, in Mercy’s closet. Mercy did not want the jar to be visible to her everyday as a reminder of what she had lost.

 

Molly blushed and smiled shyly,

 

            “Don’t worry about it…” Her eyes fluttered and she kept looking her up and down and Mercy knew she was trying to read her emotion. From what Mercy has heard about her and seen, Mercy knew that Molly was a form of ‘empath’. Not a physic but just someone who was very sensitive to emotions and could often sense the emotion of others. Mercy also had this ability usually and she was much more sensitive to other’s feelings and emotions than Sherlock by far.

 

            There was a long pause between the two as they tried to figure out how to approach the other. Molly fiddled with her wine glass then found the right conversation starter,

 

            “So, are you excited about working with Sherlock? I suppose that means we may see a lot of each other, Sherlock loves to visit the morgue, working on all his cases or experiments. He actually asked me just a couple of seconds ago to text him every time I have another body in…”

 

            Molly broke off, she was talking about bodies! She had wanted to talk about working on cases or anything not reminding Mercy of her mother. She cleared her throat and tried to recover the conversation.

 

“So, what is it like to have John and Sherlock upstairs? It must feel like a little family!” Molly asked, trying to sound excited for her. Mercy smiled and nodded,

 

            “Yes, Mrs. Hudson and John have been very kind and welcoming to me. I haven’t told John this, but he’s kind of like a fun uncle to me. Mrs. Hudson is the grandmother or beloved aunt I never had…”

 

Molly blinked and nudged her on, trying to get her to talk about the one who mattered more to her,

 

“…And you and Sherlock? How are the both of you doing since learning he was, um… your father?”

 

Mercy sighed and looked over at Sherlock who took no notice of her and Molly’s staring.

 

            “Biologically related, but family? ... No, at least… not yet. I don’t think he’ll ever really accept the fact he’s my father. He’d rather think of me as just a roommate/ companion. His technique to adjusting to it all seems to be to just believe that this is how his life has always been, I mean me, living here. Over time he may see me as family, he may accept that he is my father but I think our relationship may be more like brother and sister.”

 

            Molly nodded and they didn’t speak anymore that evening. It made sense to her Sherlock’s reaction to his daughter, it was just like him. Molly felt bad for Mercy however; she could tell she wanted him to be a father to her even though she knew he never would. Molly herself didn’t have the best relationship with her own father, he was strict and cold and took little interest in her because he was a workaholic lawyer whose only two interests in life was drinking and his job, never his daughter or partner. Molly knew what it was like to have an emotionally unreachable father who was obsessed with something… Before Molly left later that night, she slipped a piece of paper under Mercy’s doorway with her number and a note that if she ever wanted to chat, to text her.

 

Soon everyone was done eating their supper and the deserts were brought out.

 

            “Ah! My favourite part of the meal!” Lestrade said chuckling as he filled his plate with sweets and cookies. “There’s nothing I love more than a good cake or macaroon!”

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow  and joked with him, “You are a policeman Lestrade, I thought your natural favourite would be doughnuts…” 

 

            “Oh, Shut Up! That is such a stereotype!” Lestrade argued, although he knew it was true.

 

            As they settled down to eat some of the cake Mrs. Hudson made, there came a knock at the door behind them. Everyone turned to see a tall, older gentleman leaning in the doorway smirking and squinting his eyes at the group of people in the room. He was well dressed in a brown striped suit with a white dress shirt and dark purple tie fixed with a little umbrella tiepin. In his hand he held an actual umbrella that was black with a carved wooden handle.

 

            "What's the occasion?" He asked in a sarcastic sounding tone as he looked at the group surrounding the cake.

 

"Mycroft!"       Sherlock yelled in panic, he had tried to cover his panic with a smile but his voice breaking as he spoke did not help. He quickly glanced at his daughter that he had not told his brother about yet and gulped.

 

            “What are you doing here?” Sherlock had hoped to have Mycroft over tomorrow and tell him over a cup of tea and then have Mercy come into the room to meet him.

 

“Visiting… So, I’ll ask again, what is the party for?” Mycroft asked casually as he gestured to the gawking crowd. Sherlock gulped and muttered,

 

            “Ahhh…um…”

 

            John noticed Sherlock’s panic and he stepped up to cover for his friend.

 

            "We are celebrating Miss Mercy here on officially moving into 221C, the flat below us, and we are also wishing her good luck on her beginning her apprenticeship with Sherlock." John stated hoping to distract Mycroft from Sherlock’s terrified reaction. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Mercy who was relieved for his sake. She could sense her father’s tenseness. Mycroft raised a surprised eyebrow at his brother.

 

             "YOU, taking in an apprentice? Why was I not informed…?" He asked.

 

            Sherlock smirked at his older brother and mocked,

 

"Your staff must need replacing then, they are behind on the updates on me, maybe you need more attentive spy's."

 

            Mycroft frowned at his brother unamused,

 

            "I meant why didn’t **You** , yourself let me know... Or why didn't **you**?" Mycroft asked, turning now to John who shrugged.

 

            Mycroft sighed annoyed then he smiled and stepped into the room towards Mercy. He grinned and charismatically extended his hand to her. Mercy smiled awkwardly at the man and shook his hand.         

 

            "Nice to meet you Miss Mercy. I am your teacher's dear older brother Mycroft." He said courteously, Mercy noted that he had better manners than her father.

 

             "Yes, I know. Nice to meet you too, Mycroft Holmes." She stated smiling.

 

            Sherlock's jaw dropped in shock realizing that he had never mentioned having a brother to her. "You know? How on earth did you figure out he was my brother?!" He demanded.

 

            Mycroft looked surprised and impressed, he muttered "oh', as he realized she had deduced this without knowing Sherlock had a brother. Mercy looked at the two of them as if they were stupid, she shrugged,

 

            "It’s so obvious. Only an idiot could not see you two are clearly brothers."

 

            The brothers looked at each other disliking the idea of others thinking they were alike especially if she thought they looked like one another. John looked to the ground and muttered,

 

            "Well, I must be an idiot because I never figured it out when I first met Mycroft..."

 

"Usually you are John, but the ability to deduce that he and I are related is extremely rare." Sherlock said lazily. John looked at his friend insulted and annoyed, he rolled his eyes.

 

            "Yes..." Mycroft agreed grinning, standing beside his little brother,

"A skill that only a **Holmes** could possess." He hinted.

 

             Sherlock dropped his head sighing, his shoulders slumped. His secret had reached his brothers ears, his worst fears have come upon him. Mycroft looked unamused at his brother,

 

            "While my staff was unaware of you taking in an apprentice, they did however discover the contents of your DNA test. How could you honestly forget that the health system is connected to the government and.. That I AM the government…? How long did you think you could hide this little fact from me? Really Sherlock?…hiding the fact that I have a niece, what good would it do to either of you?" Mycroft scolded.

 

            Sherlock silently fumed and didn't answer. Mycroft smiled in victory but changed the subject. "But that's not why I'm here." He stated, pulling a roll of papers from his suit's inner pocket and handed it to the irritated Sherlock.

 

            "Oh?," John asked surprised, "A new case? Sherlock was beginning to worry he'd never have another again." He stated sarcastically. Mercy laughed and added,

 

"Yes, he was beginning to consider making a house painting business" she joked, Sherlock groaned loudly at the mention of painting.

 

            Mycroft grinned but then became solemn, and lead Sherlock into the hallway to talk in private. John followed when Mycroft peered into the room, looking for him. Mercy watched them leave. Mycroft was about to begin speaking when Sherlock interrupted him,

 

            “Sorry brother dear but I think we should have my new apprentice here with us to be informed on the case as well.”

 

            Mycroft frowned a little. As much as he wished to trust his new niece he didn’t know her. Her background checks have been good other than the details of her mother’s income, but despite this Mycroft hesitated to trust the girl with government information. He sighed and looked concerned towards his brother,

 

            “Alright but I need not remind you that I’m sharing government information with her…Can you promise we can trust her?”

 

            Sherlock hesitated a moment as he thought it over then he nodded, then he called to Mercy and he beckoned for her to join them in the hallway. Mercy skipped up to them, confused why they wanted her to join them.

 

“What? What is it?”

           

            “We are about to find out.” John explained and Mercy shut up.

 

            Mycroft gave her a full sweep of his eyes, scanning her and deducing what he could of her. He felt she could keep government secrets but he wasn’t sure if he trusted her because of this skill. The skill to keep secrets could make her trustworthy but who knows what dangerous secrets she keeps from them as well? He hesitated but continued and explained why he gathered them. He handed Sherlock a mug shot of a Chinese rough looking man and John and Mercy peered from his sides to see. The man looked about middle-aged, and appeared to be of pure Chinese heritage. He had long shiny straight black hair, tied back in a ponytail. He had a stern defined jaw and cruel cold eyes. His face was slightly tanned and his skin was dimpled and uneven from years of acne scars from his teenaged years. He was a tough, rough looking man and John had no doubt that he was a gang leader without being told.

 

             "We have reason to believe that Boqin Chang an escaped convict from Qincheng Prison in Beijing China, is hiding here in London. He is a notorious mafia leader in China and he is associated with the Black Lotus but he also appears to be friends with the Snakeheads because they specialize in smuggling people out of China into other countries. He is extremely dangerous and is rumoured to be known as the, ‘Skull King’ or ‘Master of death.’” Mycroft chuckled at the lame titles then continued,

 

            “We believe he had gotten an old ID and passport of a man who is dead and used prosthetic makeup to fool customs. The only reason we noticed something was wrong was when another man who is unassociated with the black lotus coincidentally used the exact same fake ID and passport to try and get a flight to China from London two days after Chang came through. We then did some research and discovered that the real Jeremy Wu has been dead for two years. We caught the second man two weeks after Chang came but we don’t know of Chang’s current whereabouts. I’m just here to tell you that we have a dangerous wanted man on our streets and I need as many observant eyes as I can get to watch for him.”

 

Sherlock looked insulted, “You came here just to ask me to keep an eye out?”

 

            “Yes.” Mycroft stated then he made his way down the stairs towards the door. In the front hall he stopped and turned around and looked at his umbrella.

 

            “Sorry to have rained on your little party my dear niece. I promise I will come back and visit again and get to know you better very soon but right now I have to attend to my work so I must leave. I wish you all the luck on your future cases with my little brother and if he is still as hellish as he was when I grew up with him, just text your frustrations to me. They both have my number.”

 

            Mercy nodded and looked to John who reluctantly nodded in confirmation. Mycroft smiled and then spoke to Sherlock,

 

“Oh and brother mine, we will be talking more about all this very soon so expect my visit.”

 

            Sherlock groaned and turned away and walked back into the flat.

 

            “Wonderful…” they heard him grumble sarcastically. Mycroft smiled then said goodbye to John and Mercy. As soon as he was gone, Mercy grabbed John’s sleeve and whispered to him,

 

“They hate each other don’t they...? Why?”

 

John chuckled and shook his head,

 

            “It does look that way but it’s more about stubbornness I think. When I first met Mycroft he explained that they have a childish feud or rivalry, although I cannot fathom what started it.  They seem to resent each other’s intelligence, they both are a bit theatrical and like to be the center of attention and that’s why they can’t stand to be in the same room at times but I really don’t think they hate each other. Mycroft keeps a close eye on your father and anyone associated with him and I really do think he cares for him. They just have a really odd and complicated relationship.” He explained.

 

            Mercy nodded listening and believed some of what John said, but she couldn’t help but feel that there was something deeper and darker about the root of their difficult relationship but she had yet to determine it. John shrugged and they both walked back into the room and joined the party once more.


	8. Foot In Mouth

Chapter 8: 

 

            Within another two hours, everyone had eventually left and Mercy was now helping Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson and John clean up. As Mercy scraped the leftovers into containers to be put in the fridge she turned to speak to Sherlock who was washing the pots in the sink.

 

“So… That was my uncle…?” She asked casually as she placed the rubber lid on a glass container containing the remains of the lasagna. Sherlock sighed and placed a clean pot on the drying rack.

 

            “Yes, my older brother by seven years, Mycroft. You may not have noticed, but he works in a very high position in our government, in fact he practically is the government but he doesn’t often appear in the political newspapers because he’s behind the scenes.”

 

“I figured as much. I guessed he was an important figure of something like Interpol or national security by the way he was dressed and spoke, obviously he’s paid well and he also obviously thinks very highly of himself. He likes authority, I would go as far as to say he gets off on it.” 

 

Sherlock chuckled at her comment,

 

            “You deduced that? Just like you deduced he was my brother?”

 

“Yes…?” Mercy responded, turning to him. She was surprised that he was surprised that she could deduct things like him. “I’m surprised at your disbelief.”

 

            “Until today when you realized he was my brother I had no comprehension that you could deduce things as I do…” Her father admitted, he stopped what he was doing and he stared at her in amazement. His intense eyes stared her down, unblinking. For a short moment they just stared at each other, as if they were mentally linked and suddenly they understood each other on a new level.

 

            Mercy began to feel uncomfortable, it suddenly got very personal between them and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet, she cleared her throat awkwardly and looked away and continued to scrape food into containers.

 

            “Well, unlike you, I often keep my observations to myself unless it’s important or if I need to get a point across. I can only make small deductions, nothing like what you can do. I’m really only a beginner in comparison to your superior ability to observe and deduct. I’ll never be able to observe to the same level and extent…” She cut off, embarrassed. She couldn’t look at him; she was afraid she may have just disappointed him.

 

            “Why do you say that? I believe you may have lots of potential of being my protégé if I teach you. Of course, It is only logical that you will not surpass my ability because you were not raised in the same environment as my brother and I but you certainly have more potential than John. I’ve tried to get him to see like I do when he’s investigating without me…”

 

John was in the living room and looked up from his sweeping and annoyingly stated,

 

“I heard that Sherlock.”

 

            “You know it’s the truth.” Sherlock responded, without looking at him.

Mercy sighed and looked up at Sherlock and she knew she would have to tell him sooner or later so she might as well tell him now.

 

            “I will never be able to pay attention and observe the same way you do or even think exactly the same because my brain is chemically different from yours. I don’t even think like neurologically-typical people like John. I have ADHD which means that my attentiveness at times will be less than average but also at times it could switch to hyper-focusing and I could be more attentive than you. My mind has certain limitations such as mathematical problems or names or other details. To be honest I can’t even properly read a clock or tell time or properly read a music sheet. I know that most other people with ADHD do not struggle with these things, but there are some. I’ve been taking strong medication since I was six and I really cannot function properly without it’s narcotics in my blood. All I can do is observe people and their behaviour and emotions generally. And then on top of the ADHD and difficulty focusing I have hearing loss so I have to wear hearing aids and even still with those I can’t hear as well. I have limitations to what I can do.” 

 

            Sherlock just blinked at her unsure how to approach the discussion now, he was worried he would say something and hurt her feelings. Usually he wouldn’t care so much about speaking his mind and opinion but seeing how she was already mentally unstable in his eyes, (being a bit stereotypical about the fact she was a teenaged girl) he didn’t want to create a tense situation. He also became worried as he remembered that a part of ADHD is Attention Deficient HYPERACTIVE Disorder… did that mean she would get really hyper and annoying if her pills ran out? Sherlock didn’t exactly know a lot about ADHD and he was worried about living with a daughter with a mental illness…however Sherlock secretly wondered at times if he himself had something not wrong, but different about him as well.

 

            John, having heard the entire conversation now walked into the kitchen area and looked long and hard at Mercy in amazement.

 

            “You have hearing aids? You would think that I, being an army doctor with all the hearing loss that war causes, would have noticed.”

 

            Mercy nodded and pulled out one of her hearing aids from behind her ear and after discreetly removing some wax she showed it to him. Mercy rarely had her hair pinned up, she had a round face so it looked more contouring with her hair down and it also hid her ears.

 

Sherlock wasn’t thinking, before he could stop himself, it slipped out of his lips.

 

“Great. She’s defected.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes suddenly widened as he realized in horror that he had spoken aloud, he stuck his foot in his mouth.

 

            John gasped in shock and practically scolded his friend.

 

            “ **Says you, Sherlock, think about what you just blurted out!** You can’t just say things like that! It’s rude, insulting, and immature and… and…just wrong! You better not try to justify your ‘superior’ opinion this time. For once in your life be a man and sincerely apologize to your daughter!”

 

            John stared at Sherlock sternly and held his ground, he was so, so pissed at him. John has grown used to Sherlock’s rude insults but he had no right to say something like what he just said. There is an unspoken guideline of politeness and courtesy that he thought even Sherlock Holmes abide by. Mercy was a little ticked off at first by his comment but she shrugged it off because she knew that was just who Sherlock was. She also knew she would have a lot of time ahead to prove just how skilled and not ‘defected’ she was to him.

 

            Once again her obsession and overwhelming determinedness to prove her worth and her intelligence to the world welled up in her. Too many years had that feeling controlled her life. The desperate determination to prove she was not stupid. She knew she was smarter than most people but her problem was that people did not seem to notice it because she was terrible at science, numbers and names. Society seems to think that if you succeed in these skills, that it makes you smart. Not smart artistically, musically, or socially, not in her skills of writing or reading people better than a physiologist or knowledge of history, philosophy and literature. 

 

             To John’s surprise Sherlock looked uncharacteristically remorseful and genuinely apologetic and almost hurt by his own actions. Sherlock hesitated for a moment, trying to make sure he didn’t blurt out anything stupid to her. He blinked rapidly then turned away from her face and whispered as if he was truly regretful of his words,

 

            “I’m…I’m sorry…Mercy. My words were out of place and completely untrue, do not really think that of you. From the few days I’ve known you I had not noticed anything which shows you are not defected or any different than us. If anyone is defected it is me and my blabbering mouth. I honestly don’t know why I said that…you had entrusted us with truth and honesty and you told us your secret and I abused it…forgive me.”

 

            Sherlock now turned back to her and pleaded, he now stepped towards her and reached out his hand. Mercy was honestly surprised that her sociopath (High functioning) father was actually able to acknowledge his mistake and regret it. She reached out her small hand and gently shook his large warm, hand and she shrugged.

 

            “It’s ok. I really don’t care, I know you really didn’t mean for it to slip out but I have to warn you…” she now suddenly squeezed his hand tightly with a strength that surprised her father. Sherlock grunted uncomfortable and raised an eyebrow at her and Mercy continued,

            “I’ve taken years of insults and bullying from my mother’s ex and killer and also many bullies and even though I’m fairly good at biting my tongue, if your tongue slips up again…All Hell will be unleased upon you.” 

 

            Mercy said this half joking but Sherlock understood she wasn’t completely. She squinted her eyes at him then gave a little amused smile and let go of his hand.  Sherlock blinked in acknowledgement. Mercy then left the room and went down to her flat for some space.  John wasn’t completely convinced by Sherlock’s apology. He knew Sherlock too well and he knew how great of an actor he was and how skilled he was in emotionally manipulating people. John marched up to his friend and threatened, pointing his finger at him.

 

            “I really do hope that the heartfelt apology you just offered was sincere and not just one of your acts to satisfy her and manipulate her, because she doesn’t deserve that.”

 

Sherlock didn’t look at his friend,

 

“It wasn’t.” he whispered then he left the kitchen and walked down the small hallway into his room.


	9. Holmes + Boredom = ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Mercy and Sherlock (The two people in the world you would want to keep entertained for your own safety sand sanity- lest they become bored) become incredibly bored and decide to watch the telly?

Chapter 9: 

 

            Mercy was bored. Sherlock was bored…the two people in the world you really did not want getting bored, were bored.

 

            It was the morning after Mercy’s ‘welcome home and good luck’ party and Mercy and Sherlock had without speaking of it, agreed to put the tenseness of Sherlock’s comment in the past. It was only 9 am and already the two were dying of boredom. Sherlock had tried doing experiments in his ‘lab’ in Mercy’s living room but nothing was really entertaining him. He had decided he needed something more, a cigarette. Sherlock had checked in his last hiding place and  discovered that the secret tear he made in his mattress was empty.

 

            “JOHN!!!!” Sherlock screamed in frustration, but he knew John wasn’t there, he was out going for a walk. Sherlock crouched on his floor for two minutes and hit his head repeatedly against his mattress while pulling at his curls in a tantrum. He grumbled and eventually got up to go back down to Mercy’s place downstairs.

 

            When Sherlock entered her flat he was surprised to hear singing. He walked through the living room and peered into the kitchen to see if she was listening to music or if it was actually her singing. To Sherlock’s pleasant surprise it was in fact his daughter who was singing so beautifully. She sang like an angel with a beautiful deep cello-like quality to her voice when she sang low and when she sang high notes it was softer and clear and angelic. She was singing Josh Groban’s _You Raise Me Up,_ a tune Sherlock actually didn’t know _._ Even though Mercy knew it was such an overdone song, she was just in the mood for singing it that day and she could sing it extremely well.

 

            Mercy (to her annoyance) is a bored eater and she was craving fresh homemade bread. She knew she could have hinted her craving enough to Mrs. Hudson and she would have probably eventually make some bread (and think it was her idea) and knowing Mrs. Hudson she would want to share it. But Mercy was not Sherlock.  She wouldn’t do that to the kind woman upstairs so she was making her own bread, on her own. She kneaded the dough as she sang, her back to Sherlock, seemingly taking no notice of his presence. Sherlock thought to himself,

 _She never heard me come in, I guess she is deaf_ …

 

but then she sang,

 

_“*Hello, Sherlock…*”_

 

“Hello.” Sherlock said grumbling and he walked past her into the kitchen and sat down at her small kitchen table and sat watching her kneading the bread, still bored.

 

Mercy sighed and turned to him, rubbing her flour covered hands together.  Her expression was blank as well.

 

            “Bored too?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

 

Sherlock groaned and looked pained as he responded,

 

“So bored I could punch something…”

 

His fists clenched suddenly and he gritted his teeth then he slammed his fists on the table angrily. Mercy raised an eyebrow and deduced he was probably just about to punch through her wall so she intervened and took off her apron and handed it to him.

 

            “Want to take it out on the dough?”

 

            The idea grabbed some of Sherlock’s attention and he got up and quickly washed his hands then he put the apron on, which made Mercy chuckle because it was a white skirted woman’s apron with pink pockets shaped like cupcakes. He then proceeded to violently beat her lump of dough on the floured counter with his fists, yelling in a hissy fit.  Luckily Mercy already had another batch in the oven so at least she would have one good loaf.  She really wasn’t sure about the batch he was beating.

 

            She supervised him for a little while until she lost interest, then she went to her fridge with a fork in hand and grabbed her jar of dill pickles and carried it with her to the couch and sat down and turned on the telly. She began to spear the pickles and crunch down on them as a fashion show came onto the screen.

 

            Mercy wasn’t a preppy, fashion obsessed girl, but she did occasionally watch a fashion show if she happened to stumble upon it.   In this instance however; she was just too lazy to get up to fetch the remote ‘clicker.’ 

 

            Soon Sherlock grew tired of punching her dough so he washed his hands, put away the apron and slumped onto the couch, joining Mercy. He sighed and closed his eyes and didn’t bother to look at the TV.

 

“What’s on?”  He asked lazily.

 

            “Fashion show.”

 

“Ugggghh…Change it to the News or something.”

 

            “You can get up and change it if you want.”She stated in a scolding tone.

 

Sherlock sighed in defeat, “Never mind…”

 

             He groaned as he opened his eyes now and was about to look at the TV when a loud crunch of Mercy’s dill pickle distracted him. He looked at the girl in horror as she took another bite out of the pickle.

 

“What in the name of sanity are you snacking on?” He demanded with a shudder. His eyes were open wide revealing the white like a spooked horse.

 

Mercy looked at him weirdly and raised an eyebrow at him.

 

            “…Dill Pickle…”

 

Sherlock gave a disgusted face and shuddered overdramatically again.

 

            “… Don’t like dill pickles?”

 

            “No. I believe the art of pickling should be reserved for science only, not for human consumption. I’d sooner pickle a human toe than eat a dill pickle!”  Sherlock stated with his nose scrunched up and held high in the air, like a child refusing to eat his vegetables. 

 

Mercy looked at him skeptical and unamused.

 

“Sherlock, have you ever actually eaten a pickle?” she asked as she reached her hand into the pickle jar to grab him one. Sherlock had his eyes closed in an attempt to be more theatrical to prove his point.

 

            “Of course I have! My mother once tried to force me to eat one because she liked them, by hiding it in my sandwich for lunch in elementary school. After taking a bite I realized her crime and then I refused to eat for two days until she apologized and bought me three bags of cotton candy. She had to drive far into the city to find some.  I refuse to eat a pickle…what?...WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!!”

 

            Sherlock’s eyes shot open and he grimaced with repulsion when he suddenly smelled the strong smell of garlic and saw Mercy holding a large lumpy pickle five centimetres away from his face. He gave a little cry,

 

“No! No! I won’t eat it! It’s green. It’s lumpy! No!”

 

            He shrieked and whined like a child. He thrashed against the back of the couch trying to get away from the pickle in her hand. She wasn’t even pressing it nearer to him.  His freaking out just continued to escalate.

 

“AHHH! NOoooooo!”

 

            “Wow,” Was all Mercy could say.  “This is truly pathetic.”

 

“Don’t touch me with it!” he pleaded as he managed to bring his feet up and he escaped by crawling over the back of the couch.

 

            “Ok. Ok. Sheesh…” Mercy said laughing. She ate the pickle and Sherlock whimpered then calmed down. He kept staring at Mercy from behind the couch, not trusting her until she screwed the jar lid back on and placed the jar on the floor. Sherlock sat down again.

 

“Dill pickles are the work of the devil. They are evil little turds,” he stated.

 

Mercy rolled her eyes. 

 

            “The Great Sherlock Holmes…Afraid of a wee dill pickle…”

Sherlock protested,

 

“I’m not afraid of a stupid pickle, I just don’t like them!”

 

Mercy laughed, and challenged him, “You don’t like most people but you don’t react like that around them.”

 

“Shut up! Don’t tell me that you, a little girl, do not have fears or dislikes?” He crouched his feet under him, pouting angrily.

 

Mercy shrugged.  “I am abnormally paranoid of mosquitos and leeches. But other things like bats, bugs, snakes and spiders don’t scare me. Bats and spiders eat the mosquitos. However like most people, I’m not overly comfortable with the idea of swimming in a piranha tank or waking down dark sketchy alleyways. When Mike Birch tried to kill me I was terrified for my life, although I didn’t let him see my fear. I’m also afraid of what would happen to me if the Black Lotus found me…”  

 

            Sherlock’s face softened for a moment while pondering this. He grunted as he got up to change the channel, bored of small talk. He grabbed it and was just about to change the fashion channel when a sudden flash of yellow caught his eye. He froze and fixated on the screen. It was a close-up of a young, attractive, dark skinned woman’s face. Painted across her eyes in makeup there were a series of yellow polka-dots which brightly glowed against her brown skin.

 

“The Blind Banker…”   Sherlock whispered to himself then chuckled, dismissing the thought.

 

Mercy sat up confused.  “What did you say? The Blind Banker? Is that one of your old cases?”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said chuckling, as he waved the remote in his hand toward the TV, gesturing, “The makeup on that model reminded me of it… It’s just a coincidence, though…” 

 

            “Life is not as lazy as most people think to have created such a coincidence,” Mercy pointed out, interrupting him. This comment caught Sherlock momentarily off guard because for a second he thought he had heard Mycroft’s voice instead of Mercy say that statement.

 

            “What reminded you?” Mercy asked curiously, trying to get him to entertain her with a story and kill her boredom. Sherlock knew she wanted to hear about the case and he, being a show off, happily obliged.

 

            “In that particular case I had to crack a code that the Black Lotus had been using to communicate with their ‘foot soldiers’ who were smuggling valuable antiques into London from China. Our first clue was a portrait in a high security bank that had been spray painted in what appeared to be just a yellow line across the eyes and what looked like a scribble beside the painting to the left of it. Turns out that line and ‘scribble’ were actually a pair or old Chinese Hangzhou numerals as a book cypher which would refer to a certain book.

 

            Turns out it was the _London A-Z Street Atlas_ and the cypher referred to the number of pages and the number of words such as page six and then the first word you see. All the messages the Black Lotus left were written in the same yellow and same brand of spray paint. I was just reminded of the case by the model’s makeup because she had the same yellow painted almost in a line over her eyes…” He chuckled again and sat down on the couch with the remote in his hand.

 

“But as you can see it was just a fashion choice of yellow polka-dots, not Chinese numbers…” he said as his finger moved to change the channel.

 

            “Wait!” Mercy said suddenly as she stopped his hand.

 

“What? Do you see some hidden message or something?” Sherlock asked skeptically joking.

 

“Maybe…” Mercy said slowly as she got up to get a closer look at the TV screen. She watched closely as each model walked down the runway.

 

            The fashion line looked to have a polka-dot theme either on the garments themselves or painted on the model’s body as decoration for the sake of repetition. Not every garment had the same yellow highlighted dots.  There were others that had a mix of blues or purples or oranges but whenever the garment had yellow, it was the only colour against black. Every model with the distinctive yellow had two pairs of polka-dots, some painted on their body and some on their clothing.  _But what language is written in dots?_

            “OH!” Mercy exclaimed growing excited.  She turned to look at her father, grinning ear to ear.

 

“What? What?!” Sherlock demanded, confused and concerned that he had missed something and that she had found it first…

 

She gave him a mischievous look, “You’re right Sherlock, there is no Chinese lettering on these models or their clothing…” She said, milking the suspense for dramatic effect.

 

Sherlock groaned impatiently, “OH, GET ON WITH IT!”

 

Mercy giggled like a mad woman, enjoying her father’s annoyance.

 

            “…There is however, a message even still. The Polka-dots are actually braille.” 

 

She crossed her arms and smiled smugly at her (consulting) detective father, completely self-assured of her analysis.

Sherlock’s frown suddenly disappeared and his face lit up with curiosity. He got up and bent over the TV to look closer.  Soon he could see it too.

 

“Oh! …That’s very intriguing… Brilliant!”  He whispered excitedly.

 

           

            The two of them sat sitting in painful silence until the designer came out to bow and be announced at the end of the show so they could learn their name. The fashion designer was a young Asian woman, named Li Na Wang. She was a petite woman and she wore a red and black full length dress with a Chinese styled seaming and fastenings. She wore big broad rimmed bright red ‘hipster’ glasses.

 

“Well…” Sherlock began when the program was over, “Looks like we will have to pay miss Wang a little visit.”

                                                                                                                 

He got up from the couch and began to make his way towards the front door. Mercy stared at him shocked, and then she burst out laughing,

           

            “How are we supposed to get a fashion designer, who has been on TV, to make room in her schedule for us or even talk to us?”  She laughed at her father’s rash actions and eagerness.

 

Sherlock raised one finger and ran into Mercy's bedroom and grabbed her laptop and came back into the living room.

 

            "Hey, don't go in my room!" Mercy complained.

 

            Sherlock ignored her comment and sat down again beside her on the couch and opened the laptop. He thought for a second then typed a password in the password bar.

 

INNCORRECT PASSWORD.

The computer stated then it went back to the locked screen.

 

"What?" Sherlock said confused," I thought that it would be One Direction for sure."

 

Mercy snorted and waved one finger back and forth.

 

“No, no no no no. I am definitely not a One Direction fan girl…”

 

Mercy chuckled again, shaking her head and took the laptop from his lap and placed it on hers.

 

"You'll never guess my password." She teased giving him a look from the corner of her eye then she turned the laptop away from him so he could not see her typing in the password. Sherlock noted from the number of clicks of the keys that the password she typed in was eight characters long. Mercy turned the laptop towards him again and looked expectantly, waiting for instructions.

 

Sherlock gave an annoyed look but shrugged it off, it was her laptop after all.

 

"Check to see if Miss Wang has a website and see if there are posted photos from her show and when her upcoming shows are."

 

            Mercy nodded and Google searched the designer and quickly found her site. Under ‘events’ they discovered to their luck, that there was another show scheduled three days away at  the Somerset House. Sherlock and Mercy reserved seats to the show for themselves and John. They planned to watch the show and photograph any models with the braille on their clothing and afterwards sneak into the after party that Wang was known to have after every show and try to get a chance to talk to her.

 

Mercy handed the laptop to Sherlock and he searched through all the photo albums and made a document of all the garments or models with the yellow Braille and then printed them off.

 

            Sherlock then went upstairs to his room and used his own laptop and to search up the Braille alphabet and got to work decoding the garments from the latest show.

 

After a half an hour, Sherlock heard a knock on his bedroom door and Mercy popped her head inside.

 

            “It just occurred to me that we will have to dress up for this particular fashion show since it’s all going to be evening wear to blend into the crowd… I know I have a few dresses or gowns I could wear, I suppose even my prom dress would do. I’m assuming since you dress so nicely all the time that you have a decent suit… but does John?” Mercy asked unsurely.

 

 Sherlock went through a quick memory scan of all the clothes he’s seen John wear and he could come up with nothing. He groaned and rubbed his forehead then sighed.

 

            “Looks like I’ll have to take him shopping then.” He stated annoyed, knowing that taking John out to a suit store may look a little questionable to the outside eye.

 

Mercy fidgeted awkwardly in his bedroom door as she was trying to pluck up the courage to ask Sherlock a question. She tilted her head and looked away and cautiously began,

 

“What if… I took John instead?”

 

Sherlock raised a quizzical eyebrow at her then he suddenly tensed as if he had realized something. He looked suspiciously at his daughter.

 

            “Mercy… do you have a crush on John? Why do you want to spend time with him and watch him pick out and try on suits?” Sherlock asked accusingly.

 

Mercy’s eyes widened and she was shocked speechless for a moment then suddenly she burst out laughing.

 

            “Pffttt! No! no no no, I don’t have a crush on John, no. EW! He’s like- what?- at least ten years older than me? Ew, no. My maximum ages for dating guys are at least three years younger or older…”

 

She clutched her gut in pain from laughter and Sherlock just stared at her blinking, and confused.

 

“He’s approximately twelve years and thirty two days older than you.” Sherlock stated.

 

Mercy calmed down and began to catch her breath again,

 

            “Yeah, That is quite the age gap don’t you think? I’ll admit he’s a great guy and he’s good looking too and I’m sure plenty of girls his age would be interested but I’m not. We are just friends, In fact, I think of him more as the fun uncle who takes his niece’s side.”

 

            She smiled warmly at Sherlock who was beginning to calm down internally from his worry. Sherlock was relieved, he could not imagine how much more awkward the situation could have been in their home if Mercy tried to flirt with his roommate and best friend.

 

Mercy sighed and slid down his door frame to the floor and sat looking up at her dad at his desk.

 

            “I don’t know I guess, I just wanted to get to know him a little more. I feel like he still isn’t completely used to my staying here and he doesn’t really know all that much about me. Plus Sherlock, I think if he needs an honest opinion of how a suit looks on him, I think it would be better coming from my mouth than yours. We both know that I am more sensitive towards others feelings when it comes to things like that.”

 

Sherlock nodded, taking in her point and shrugged,

 

“Sure, why not? But I wouldn’t feel offended if I were you if he says he’d rather go alone…”

 

            Suddenly they could hear the sound of John coming in the front door downstairs. Sherlock and Mercy shared a quick look and then Mercy got up from the floor and went downstairs to meet John as he came up to the top of the stairs.

 

“Good walk?” Mercy asked casually as she leaned in the doorway, with crossed arms and a smile on her face.

 

John glanced up at her as he climbed up the last step and then exhaled before smiling back at her.

 

“Yeah, the weather is beautiful out. You know what?,” he asked pausing for a moment as a grumpy Sherlock came into the living room, not looking at his friend, “I think we should all go outside for the rest of the afternoon…maybe even have a picnic!... It’s better than you two moping about here, bored out of your minds. What do you say?”

 

John looked around expectantly to his roommates and his smile faded when Sherlock strode toward him and glared down at him.

“Secret stash, Mattress, Gone.” Sherlock stated through his teeth, clearly ticked off.

 

John looked sternly at his friend as if he was about to discipline a child.

 

“Sherlock, you know it’s for the best. Remember I’m the doctor and I know what’s best for your health. Besides, you’ve been doing so well for the last five months- only the occasional nicotine patch, why give it up now? Just because you are bored? Really Sherlock? How much could smoking a couple of cigarettes really entertain you?”

 

Sherlock smoldered and looked away from John like a scolded dog. Mercy chuckled under her breath and shook her head at John.

 

“Hasn’t used a patch in months my butt!…I agree that he hasn’t actually smoked in quite a while, his teeth and fingers and smell show no indication however…” She teased as she looked towards her father, “He’s wearing four patches right now on his left arm. Two on his biceps and two on his inner forearm.” Mercy stated with a sly smile on her face.

 

“Shhh!” Sherlock hissed at his daughter annoyed, he scowled in her direction.

 

John frowned at Sherlock and waved his hand in a gesture as if to say, _‘let’s see it then.’_

 

“Show me now Sherlock.”

 

The detective groaned loudly then grudgingly unbuttoned the sleeve of his dress shirt and rolled it up the length of his arm to reveal the several nicotine patches. John looked disappointedly at his friend and shook his head. Sherlock fixed a cold stare at Mercy who was grinning stupidly. She nodded her head towards Sherlock while keeping her gaze on John.

 

“Want to know how I deduced that?” she chuckled as she mocked her father’s abilities.

 

“Shut up! No need to rub it in.”

 

            “No, no…” John encouraged her, clearly enjoying his friend’s prided abilities being used against him. “Please, enlighten us.” He grinned.

 

Mercy smirked then lazily waved her hand gesturing towards her father and spoke in a bored tone.

 

“We both were witnesses to his irritability and twitchiness this morning as he was both suffering from overwhelming boredom and an itch to smoke. Once you went out for your walk this morning, I’ve been around him until about half an hour ago when he went back to his bedroom.  Seeing him now, he’s suddenly much more calm and docile than before. I also noticed that he changed his shirt since then, to a much looser shirt than what he usually wears with noticeably looser sleeves. I noticed just a second ago that he was scratching and pulling at his arm because the sticker part of the patches were pulling at his arm hair and sticking to the fabric of his sleeve. I guessed four patches because there’s nothing normal about him when it comes to things like this, either four patches or none. Go big or go home.” 

 

John continued to grin proudly and began to clap enthusiastically.

 

“Bravo! Bravo!” he cheered then he nudged an elbow into Sherlock’s side, “She is definitely your daughter.”

 

Sherlock cringed for a moment then looked intensively at his daughter with an intrigued curiosity. Eventually, the evidence of a small, hint of a pleased smile graced his lips.

 

“I must say, I’m impressed.” He said after a long awkward silence. Mercy looked up at him with joyful and hopeful eyes and beamed proudly.

 

“Learned the techniques from your website.”

 

Now Sherlock’s face lit up with excitement and he twirled around to John and pointed at Mercy.

 

“See? See John? People do read The Science of Deduction and find it valuable!” He stated to his friend feeling victorious over an unresolved debate about their websites that John honestly couldn’t remember having, but he gave in and nodded while rolling his eyes.

 

“Ok, ok whatever,” John began, then he changed the topic, “So what do you two say? Are you up for an afternoon in the local park?”

 

Mercy and Sherlock both suddenly remembered their possible new case.

 

“Actually, we did find something of interest for us to do for the next couple of days. We might have a case! My first case!” Mercy explained excitedly.

 

 “Oh?” John asked surprised, his eyebrows raised and he pressed his lips together. He looked at Sherlock as his friend took out his cell phone and showed a picture of one of the models with the braille message.

 

“Remember the Blind Banker case involving the Black Lotus using old Chinese script code in that particular yellow spray paint?” Sherlock began, making sure his friend was following.

 

“Yeah…” John said slowly, waiting for Sherlock to finish explaining.

 

“Well, Mercy and I were watching a fashion show on the telly when the yellow designs and makeup suddenly reminded me of the pairs of Chinese text. I shrugged it off at first, believing I was so bored that I was seeing things and also because it wasn’t Chinese text, but Mercy pointed out that it was braille, the writing for the blind. Not many seeing people can read braille and I don’t need to really point out why the blind can’t so most would assume it was simply a design choice. We looked up the designer and, not to sound stereotypically racist, but the designer is Chinese and many of her fashion lines include these yellow braille markings. We have booked seats at an upcoming show to go and investigate, but its formal so… John, you need a suit.”

 

John looked insulted for a moment and was taken aback.

“I have a suit! I have my military uniform!” John stated annoyed.

 

Mercy and Sherlock exchanged a glance and both had a doubtful look on their faces.

 

“John, that would be too formal. It’s a fashion show, not a military graduation. You know what, if it makes you feel any better you can wear your badges to the show if you think it may increase your chances of models hitting on you. But you need a new suit and I’m going to take you shopping right now!” Mercy grinned mischievously and then grabbed his arm and began to playfully tug him towards the stairs. John stayed put and didn’t allow himself to budge, he was still sorting through all the information.

 

 _“Might increase my chances with the models?”_ he grumbled under his breath slightly insulted.

Mercy sighed annoyed and still tugged at his sleeve,

 

“I meant if it made you feel more confident or something like that…come on!” She kept tugging when suddenly John shook his head and looked at Sherlock and began to laugh.

 

“Wait! Sherlock watched a fashion show with you Mercy?” he teased, looking at his friend and then to his nodding daughter. Sherlock sighed annoyed and shrugged,

 

“Yes John, that’s how bored I was.”

 

“I would have paid to see that! Ha!”

 

“You should have seen the other funny and pathetic display he did earlier today…” Mercy began when Sherlock interrupted her by pushing them both towards the stairs to leave.

 

“Shh! Ok, Bye now!”

 

John shrugged then let Mercy tug him down the stairs and out of the apartment.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR NOTE TO READERS:   
> Hey Guys (And Girls)! Thanks so much for reading my first ever Fan-Fiction (Well… first posted online fan-fiction)   
> I’ve noticed that I’ve had at least 1,513 views to Sherlock’s Mercy on Fanfiction.net … BUT ONLY 1 REVIEW! ??  
> And on AchiveOfOurOwn only five Comments, two Kudos, one Bookmarks and 194 Hits  
> GUYS!! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YA’ll THINK!   
>  I’m super, super proud of my story so far and what I have planned for its future and I want to see how you guys share in the excitement. And please, give me honest and constructive criticism… I misspell stuff and I have no one to edit so if I missed something, or something doesn’t make sense… or especially if you are British and you could point out the appropriate terms of the UK. It seriously helps a lot! 
> 
> Also, I’d like to apologize about not posting new chapters as often as I would have liked. I’ve been trying to finish my first year of college so I had to put writing aside for a while. And then after college (and unfortunately through college too! SUCKED SOOO MUCH!) I had all kinds of problems with my one year old HP (so done with HP! Didn’t even buy this, it was a guift) laptop. Seriously… If there is a problem to be had with any laptop… its pretty much had them all.   
> I’m out of school now… Obviously… its MAY! And I’m now getting back to my job but I will still try to squeeze in time to keep writing. 
> 
> YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN IN THE LATER CHAPTERS! RIDE OF YOUR READING LIFETIME, HOLD ON!   
> :P 
> 
> Sincerely; YoungDreamerOfBigThings   
> Ps. It was my 19th birthday last Monday!


	10. No bow-ties for John

Chapter 10: 

 

 

It was a half an hour taxi ride to the nearest men's formal clothing store. Mercy and John conversed in small talk about The Blind Banker case and the new case on the way there. 

Once they arrived at the men's clothing store nearby called Gray Flannel the two of them circled the entire store at least four times, searching for the perfect outfit. Mercy learned that John did in fact at least understand the basics of what size he was, what cuts would fit and flatter his body type and what he would look good in. However; to mercy's frustration, she learned that he really had no sense of colour and pattern coordination as well as texture and especially the price. It was slim pickings from the sale rack at the back of the store. Eventually they decided to split up and grab three suits each and John would try on the ones he picked and also the ones Mercy picked. Mercy waited outside the dressing room on the padded bench for friends or groomsmen to wait on as John tried on each suit.

He tried on first, the three suits he picked out. Each fit him well and looked alright on him but they were still quite dull and understated for a formal event. John was a modest dressing man, which is strange considering he is can be incredibly self-confident and at times be somewhat arrogantly cocky. Not to mention he was a ladies man…

John stood before Mercy, his back turned to her as he examined the tux he was wearing. He looked over the light gray tweed jacket and olive coloured dress shirt. He examined the simple cufflinks then turned around to Mercy, eyebrows raised.

"Well..? How about this one?"

"No." She stated coldly without any hesitation to object, just like the last two suits.

John rolled his eyes and his shoulders sagged as he gave in, "What's wrong with this one?" He whined, gesturing to the suit. 

Mercy cocked an eyebrow and looked him up and down with a displeased expression.

"Beige tweed fabric on your person makes you look like an outdated, dull bloke. If you want to look fresh, classy and stylish, try a simple straight color and texture for the jacket and pants. If your heart is set on tweed, try a darker fabric with less obvious contrasting strands. With the plain, well cut suit and pants you can then wear a well-fitting dress shirt in a contrasting color of the suit, if you chose a color such as evergreen and dark plumb color shirt or a color close on the color wheel. Also, No. Bowtie."

John looked annoyed and protested, "I thought Bowties were in style lately."

Mercy nodded her head smugly, "Yes but not every bloke can pull it off. I personally think they look better on men with longer necks. You are not necessarily a short man John, but beside my father you appear it, and you have a shorter neck. When men with short necks wear a bow tie it ruins the flow of the look. The tux opens up to draw the eyes up to the face but when short necked men wear a bow tie it’s as if it is literally chocking them and cutting off the flow of movement of the eyes. A tie would make the outfit flow smoothly and make you appear taller as well."

John considered what she said then gave in and gestured for her to hand him the three suits she had chosen for him to try on. Mercy smiled then brought him the first suit.

Finally after another half hour John decided on his suit. To Mercy' s delight he had chosen her favorite look. A dark burnt cherry (almost a purple burgundy) lightweight velvet suit jacket paired with black dress pants with a barely noticeable stripe pattern. Underneath the jacket he was to wear a matching black satin vest and under that a dark navy dress shirt with a matching burgundy tie. The tie pin and cufflinks were false gold with red ruby glass jewels.

He paid for the suit at the cash and soon they were walking down the street with the protective bag in his arms. It was close to suppertime and they both were getting hungry. Mercy skipped alongside him, a smile on her face and asked him why they weren't ordering a cab to get back to the flat.

"Because," John began when he suddenly stopped walking, swung the bag over one elbow and gently grabbed Mercy's shoulders to make her turn to him. He smiled charmingly down at her, " I want to take you to dinner tonight. Just you and I. I want to get to know you more than how you act around Sherlock."

Mercy blinked in surprise, _"* He knows? *"_

She blinked again then shrugged her shoulders and quickly shook her head trying to act dismissive of the comment.

"What are you talking about?..." She began then trailed off when she saw that John was not buying it. She sighed in defeat then grinned up at him, eyes studying him in awe.

"You know, my father doesn't nearly give you enough credit for your skills of observation. Even if he does notice your skills he most likely would dismiss them as inferior to his own, but you can take it from me and believe me when I say, you are a skilled and very intelligent man John Watson. Despite what my father says."

Honesty dripped from every word she spoke and she looked up with twinkling eyes. John 'blushed' and looked down at his feet, embarrassed and honored at the same time. He took at breath then nodded his head in thanks,   


"Thank you Mercy... Please, feel free to remind Sherlock from time to time when he is on his little rants about his IQ."

Mercy laughed and promised while crossing her heart. They began to walk again and Mercy continued the conversation.

"In a way, your skill of reading a person's thoughts and actions is far better than my sociopath father. All he can understand is behavior that leads to motive which will result in something. He understands the signs that a man is cheating on his wife and say, the wife finds out and murders him. 1+2=3. It’s all an equation for him of predictable behaviors. But he wouldn't understand emotionally why the husband was cheating or why the wife could not cope with the betrayal. Of course you and I can, well I guess, you more than me are not wired like my father. But John, it takes a very special person like you to understand a person like my father. He's manipulative, unpredictable at times, emotionless, fake, rude, and incredibly strange. It takes a special person to make sense of Sherlock Holmes."

John chuckled , "...And understand you?"

Mercy scrunched her nose and narrowed her eyes in a cringe. "Well... I'm much harder to read. I'm a girl remember? Lying and manipulating and faking emotions are part of our genetic code."

John chuckled and nodded repeatedly. "Isn't that the truth!"

Soon they found a decent restaurant a walking distance away from 221b and sat down for dinner. Mercy had a plate of Greek pork souvlaki with a side of Greek salad and rice and John had a plate of spaghetti. When they both were stuffed and couldn’t eat another bite John leaned forward his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes focused on the young woman across from him. Mercy shyly looked at him, nervously anticipating what he was going to ask. He blinked twice as he gathered his thoughts then he smiled warmly at her.

“So, Mercy, I know you really don’t have a particular interest in men’s fashion, I could tell while we were looking around. Although, I admit you have a better eye for it than myself. So…” He broke off for a second squinting his eyes and make sure he was ready to read any sign off of her face’s reaction, “Why did you really want to tag along Mercy?”

When Mercy did not respond right away other than a look that told John that she knew completely what he was getting at, John continued, “It’s about Sherlock right? You wanted to get away from him to talk to me about him?”

Mercy sighed and gave in, and after a long few seconds she spoke,

 “I’m trying.” She began then sighed and looked down into her lap as she clasped her hands together,

“I’m really trying to be as patient and loving and loyal as a daughter should be and I try to take his side on opinions but to be honest… I sometimes feel like I’m living a lie just to please Sherlock. I don’t always agree with his statements or behaviours but I try to support him anyway just to please him. I’ve been trying to put on a mask of his personality so that he could adjust to me better without having a shock from the new personality under the same roof but still after all this time, he’s still refusing to really acknowledge that I am his daughter.  I don’t feel that he has accepted the fact, it is as if  he keeps pushing back the reality of the situation and he’s pretending or tricking himself into believing that my moving in and the DNA test happened a long time ago and so he’s already used to it.”

"Do you know what it is like to have a lying, manipulating emotionless robot for a father?"

"…I know what it’s like to have a friend like that, and we've been flatmates for a couple of years now." John said, trying not to sound like he was disregarding her feelings but trying to explain that he understood.

"It’s not the same."

She sighed sadly and hugged her stomach as if to comfort herself. The feeling of coldness and emptiness washed over her and she wanted to cry but no tears came.

"It may be my fault, when Sherlock and I got the DNA results we afterwards had a talk and I told him I didn't want him to have to change himself for me, and I did mean it to an extent... I can live with his quirkiness and his inverted emotions, I just really wish he would stop lying to himself that everything is normal because sooner or later it’s going to hit him like a rock. I also want him to care... Not like an overpowering protection or having to know what I was doing at all times, but to care about my safety, feelings and opinions."

John thought for a moment and nodded understandably.

"You know," he began, "as much as I hate to admit it, it’s not Sherlock who changes, it is we who adapt to him... There are many times when his logic is astounding and other times it can be incredibly narrow minded. He annoys the crap out of me on a regular basis and yet..."

He said smiling now, as he leaned forward across the table and placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze,

"He still surprises me. I have witnessed change in him over the years we spent together, in some ways I like to think I had something to do with that. He's just starting to understand a tiny bit that he needs to respect people, and not show off or point out embarrassing and unnecessary details about people to prove a point. When it is necessary and when it is not, he's a little immature socially you well know. He's even shocked me in rare occasions by showing some sort of emotional reaction to death or when he realizes that he has hurt a friend by saying something. He can show genuine regret of his actions. And when he was faking his suicide and talking to me on the phone, his tears were real because he knew what I was going to go through if I thought he was dead. It pained him to know what he was about to do with me."

Mercy's eyes furrowed confused.

"…I know he feels,” she began, tilting her head at John, “It’s clear as day to me to predict his feelings but what I am upset about is why he still does not want to show them to me or talk personally to me when he knows we think alike and I could understand. I am like him John, I'm just better at acting normal...’ish’. But I can be cold, cruel and manipulative... I am fully capable but I choose not to because I have much more empathy and mercy than he."

John released her shoulder and slumped back and this time he was the one confused.

"You are like him but you choose not to be? Is that what you meant when you said you are living a lie? Why not be more like him if you think he'd accept you better than your false personality?"

Mercy blinked with a stone face. Her pale skin seemed suddenly paler and her eyes were dull.

 "I am not living with a false personality; I have two sides to me. But I'd like to point out that I do not have dual personality disorder... I have two sides to me much like everyone else. An invert can have an extravert side to them that comes out when they are around friends and an extravert can have an introvert side when they are around strangers. There are even some people who act extraverted to cover up that they are really an introvert. I have both extravert and introvert sides. I have a fun, caring and jokester side to me which is the personality you see most of the time but my other personality doesn't always see the light of day. This side of me is like Sherlock. My serious, calculating, logical, dangerous, cold, stubborn, rude and believe it or not... Emotional side. This is who I keep in the dark because I'm not comfortable with myself. My 'Sherlock' side sometimes terrifies me. It was this side that came out whenever I had to fight Michael Birch... My dangerous side."

John felt somewhat nervous as he looked at her now. It was if her face had suddenly changed, her eyes had an icy glare and she had an eerie blank expression as if she had suddenly been snapped into focus. Her face was emotionless and blank, her eyes were narrowed and dilated and unblinking. John had seen this look on Sherlock many times and every time it happened it still chilled john to the bone. It was a reminder to him that something was not completely right with his friend, there was a seed of darkness that emerged when angry or under threat.

Suddenly her face changed in an instant , the cold face was gone and replaced with a small, sad smile. The darkness had gone.

John gulped silently and chose to shrug it off like he did with his friend. He smiled now and tilted his head as he got a good look at her and he started to really see her now.

"Sherlock is capable of change but we can't force it upon him, that never works. Sooner or later he figures out why you and I are important to him and sometimes on rare occasions... His humanity and venerable-ness shows through. As his friends we live for the moments where we can see for even a few moments the depth of his loyalty and love for us. You may see it too someday; we just have to be patient with him. " 

Mercy sighed and nodded her head in acceptance. A small feeling of hope over came her and she smiled at her friend,

 "Thank you John."   


John beamed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or review! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to let me know what you think :) 
> 
> It's greatly appreciated <3


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